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21 August 2009 @ 05:14 pm
 
We're back from our wee New England jaunt, and I'll be picking Handsome Tom up from the kennel tomorrow. We put him in whenever we're away to give the older kitties a bit of a break. The staff at the kennel is fantastic; they play with HT several times a day, and it's pretty clear they adore him. Best of all, when I pick him up, he's freshly bathed and manicured (well, his claws are trimmed; they've yet to give him French tips).

While it's clear that Tom is getting the better end of the deal than the girls (home alone, visited and fed once a day by my sister-in-law or sort of-neighbor (and bless them, they do the litterboxes! the SIL et al., not the kitties)), getting him to the facility is a trial. It's the same on a short jaunt to the vet. He curls up in the corner of the carrier and cries or, as I like to say, sings his sad, sad song, which goes a little something like this: "rowrowrowrOWROWROwrowrow"*

It's heartbreaking. I'm also fairly sure it's pure manipulation, since the moment I get him home, he's all snuggles and racing after the other kitties and then sitting on top of the carrier as if to say, "You're not the boss of me." So even though I know he's just fine, I'm guilt-ridden the entire feline-blues-laden journey.

Know what's worse than the sad, sad, song? SILENCE. Complete lack of vocalization. Not a whimper, not a purr. This time, HT sat in the carrier, not curled up in the corner, but with his face framed in the mesh door. Watching me. Silently. The. Entire. Trip. I'm pretty sure he never even blinked.

He is good. He is very, very good.



Photobucket

"Headology. I has it."










*"row" is here pronounced as if describing a tiff or a quarrel. I very nearly recorded a voice post of me mimicking HT's sad, sad song, but I figured this specification would do the trick.
 
 
 
Zoë Tzoethor on August 22nd, 2009 01:50 am (UTC)
Awww saddest kitties...

Ms Friskers has started getting her daily anti-anxiety pill. The look on her poor little face each day as I shove that pill in her throat could melt the hearts of grinches everywhere. Also, she *trembles* in little shudders the whole time. I swear she's just doing that part to guilt me horribly.

Tom would look, by the by, quite adorable with a kitty manicure.