Our cat will willingly get into the cat carrier.
And stay there.
For an indeterminate amount of time.
She won't even mind if you lug her around like a suitcase. Or spin her a little ... like an amusement park ride.
For some strange reason she thinks of her cat carrier as her safe place. Even when it takes her places she'd rather not go.
Like the vet.
But once you set her transportation tent in the car and fire up the ignition all bets are off.
Even driving from the house to the edge of the street will elicit sounds that would make the neighbors think we're ripping out her toenails with rusty pliers and dousing her with antiseptic.
It was a good thing Monkey Baby came along for his check up, too.
Turns out they both got clean bills of health. Neither of them needed to be wormed or flea dipped. Monkey Baby didn't even need a shot.
But while Monkey Baby never made a peep, Ariel wouldn't stop yelling at me. Even when set free, she just laid on the warm driveway and told the world of her terrible ordeal. For hours.
I wouldn't be surprised if she left me a gift in my shoe overnight.