500 Catablogging--Traveling with a Cat, pt. 1

A Globblog is a blog that supports the global economy; a clogblog is a blog from Holland; and a catablog is blog written by cat people. We only have one cat, so I don't do much catablogging--although some bloggers--usually women--make that their total focus.

If we can drive the 120 miles to our lake house without the cat throwing up or pooping, it has been a successful trip. Last week's round trip and this week's trip here have been in that rare category. Meds didn't help much, because by grabbing her, wrapping her in a towel and stuffing a fraction of a tiny Dramamine down her throat made her very unhappy about traveling anywhere. And the towel didn't protect us against biting.

Now we have a method that works much better. Thirty minutes before the car trip, we pick her up gently and place her in the carrier and put it in a quiet room and close the door so she can't see us scurrying around the house packing suitcases, and loading the cooler. It cuts her anxiety level way down--especially by not force feeding medication. We also began taking a straighter road, less scenic for us, but easier on her nervous system and tummy.


Cat on on Cool Pink Porch

Catablogging pt. 2

After we were settled in at the cottage, my husband couldn't find the cell phone. "Check under the seats of the car," I reminded him. That's where it was lost for several months last year. "I did, but it isn't there."

We'd had a slight mishap on the way up. The cat mewed like she needed to use the facilities, but it was just a ruse. Once out of her carrier, she decided to wander around and look out the windows. She made a move for the front at the same time I braked, and she slid forward struggling and scrambling. My husband lunged for her and yelled (I was driving), and I steadied the coffee cups. This frightened the cat and her back claws caught us both, causing some blood gushing on his arm. But he caught her and put her back in the carrier.

It was this incident that caused me to tell him to check under the seats. The cell phone had been riding peacefully between the coffees, last time I saw it. So I told him I would dial the number on our land line, while he sat in the car. I did so and could hear a very faint tune in our living room. I went through my book bag, his camera bag and my purse. No phone. I motioned him to come in the house.

"When did you change the ring? I distinctly heard a classical tune when I dialed the cell phone." He seemed puzzled. I guess I've never actually heard the full glory of our cell phone alert. So I dialed again. The music was coming from the couch area. I dumped everything out of my bookbag and there it was, wedged between magazines and books, a black phone in a black bag.

The cat watched with great interest wondering what we were doing crawling around on the floor. Or perhaps she knew and was laughing at us.