Notes from under the bed

I thought all was right with the world. Craig had finished his hiking research for his upcoming backpacking guide and he promised to stay home for a little while. Heather had returned home after a week in Portland. And Scruffy and I were getting used to everything being normal again. Breakfast on time, all four of us hanging out in the living room reading the paper together in the morning, evening treats. The routine was just starting to get re-established.


(Above: Giuseppe inspecting Craig's sleeping bag, making sure it was going back to storage for the winter.)

That's when the ambush occurred. I was sitting downstairs, watching as the dreaded kitty carrier was brought into the house and the door was left enticingly open. Come on - it was obviously for Scruffy. I might be docile enough to let Craig and Heather cut my nails, but Scruffy tries to eat them alive. I know they pay the vet team to endure his attitude so they don't have to. So I had nothing to worry about. I was getting ready to watch Heather attempt to lure Scruffy into the carrier.

But then Heather leaned over (to kiss my goodbye, I was sure) and she picked me up and quickly shoved me into the kitty carrier. What??? When did she become quick as lightening? It must have been all that coffee she drank before breakfast. Dang it! And the next thing I knew I was in the back seat of her car being whisked away to the vet! AAAAH!

In case there was any doubt, I was a brave kitty. Contrary to the rumors, I did NOT drool like a St. Bernard and I did not shake with fear the entire time. And I did not wrap my body around Heather's neck in hopes that she'd save me from the vet. Nope. Do not believe a word of it. I will have to have a talk with Scruffy about those nasty rumors he's been spreading....

Everything will go back to normal, I'm sure it will. But for now, until I'm absolutely sure, I will be hiding under the bed. Just in case.