CHAPTER EIGHT: THE CATS IN THE BAG

The wait was over. Like an expectant mother anticipating the delivery of her baby, my due date was today. There was no more time for preparation. If the I’s had not been dotted or the T’s crossed by now, they never would be. Suzanna had hit the road early and was at this moment somewhere near Charlottesville. The plan was that she would arrive at my house around one. We would then load up and drive to our friend Jean’s, where her car would recess during her visit to France. Jean was providing us lunch followed by transportation to Dulles Airport for our late night flight.

My one small suitcase and duffel bag were packed and sitting at the foot of the bed. Pierre, my notebook computer and only source of communication with the States for two months, was charged and residing snugly in my purple messenger bag. Next to Pierre was my wallet containing one credit card, a driver’s license and several freshly minted Euros. Dr.G. would arrive momentarily. The only remaining assignment was to place the girls in their carry cases and wave goodbye.

The butterflies that had been fluttering in my stomach all morning, now felt engaged in a rousing game of racquetball. The blanket lined cat carriers sat stoically in the hallway, patiently awaiting their cargo. I jumped when the doorbell rang even though I knew who the visitor would be. I could sense Dr.G.’s perturbation, but being a highly trained medical professional, he hid it well. We exchanged banalities and then focused on the task at hand.

Cleopatra hates her crate because it usually signals an immediate trip to the vet. She had been spying this case (and me) for the last hour while carefully skirting its perimeter. Because one of the basic rules of soccer is to always plan three passes ahead, I was completely prepared and knew that collecting her first was the wisest decision. I talked to her softly in an effort to distract her from ‘the box’, while hiding a cat treat in my hand. Per my instruction, Dr. G positioned himself on one side, while I resided on the other. Patra coyly circled my legs, but never took her eyes off me. I eased down leisurely and  opened my hand so she could sneak a peek at the treat. Eagerly, she went for the snack, allowing me the second I needed to swoop her with purpose. In one continuous motion, with her little feet waving in the air, I placed her inside the receptacle and secured the latch with a click. Done. She was in. She looked more resigned than pleased as she chewed on the bait, but like it or or not, (and that went for both of us) she was where she needed to be.

Wow, that was easy. One minute she was on the floor, the next, safely enclosed in her case. I looked over at Dr. G and found him smiling and giving his approval with a ‘two thumbs up.’ Well, I concluded while blowing the bangs out of my eyes, if that was the ‘hard’ cat, the next one will be a synch!

With a swell of new found confidence, we moved on to cat number two. Skylar remember, is my bed-puddle. She is docile and dreamy, seldom moving a muscle unless changing positions while she sleeps. Optimistic that I needed no help with this fur ball, I left Dr. G waiting in the hall near her crate. Straight away I located her curled up like a caterpillar, snoozing (where else?) in my bed. Gently and calmly I spoke to Skylar June. She lifted her sleepy head and blinked at me. I picked her up slowly, cradled her like a baby in my arms, and cooed sweet-nothings in her ear. I showered the smile of a prize winning athlete on Dr. G as I rocked her gently from side to side, while inching my way forward. Her tail swished laconically under my arm as we drew closer to our final destination. I could see now that all of my trepidation and dread had been for naught. Hell, at one point, I had actually feared I might miss my flight over my ineptitude to perform this feat. In the wink of an eye, I ruminated, the three of them will be gone. I will be alone. My heart was constricting as I nuzzled her silky ear. I was already missing her and feeling guiltier by the second. The lid of the crate was open and waiting. She rested smartly in my arms as I lowered her down….. And then… she didn’t.

POOF! There was cat hair everywhere, but no cat anywhere!

She had literally bolted from my arms and vamoosed. Aghast and empty handed, I gaped at Dr G. “What the hell just happened?” I squawked; “where did she go?”

He, too, appeared dumbstruck. “I don’t know! It was so fast! She seemed so relaxed in your arms. I thought it was a done deal”

Ok, I scolded myself while pursing my lips and scrunching my nose… this is your fault. You really weren’t holding her properly or tightly enough. You were lulled into a false sense of security by her big blue eyes and the ease with which you had wrangled Patra. Your head was already in France. Try this again… only this time, remember who’s in charge and think three passes ahead!

So with a rebirth of confidence, I set off to track her down. Big surprise: she was back in my bed. “June Bug” I warbled in a sickeningly, syrupy way, “Let’s go, baby doll. It’s just a short little car ride and you’re going to be just fine!”

Once again, appearing to be unperturbed at being uprooted, she allowed me to hoist her up and re-cradle her in my arms. As I carried her back down the hall, I held her more securely and sprinkled kisses on her nose to keep her calm. Dr. G nodded encouragingly and waved me forward like a flagman directing the nose of a jet to its gate. With steadier pressure and a much firmer grip, I began easing her down into her sanctuary. As her paws touched the rim, all hell broke loose. She locked all four legs and screamed like a banshee! The cartoon cat that we have all read about in that “How To Give a Cat a Bath” pictorial, materialized before my very eyes. She was wild and unruly. She kicked and screeched like a child throwing a temper tantrum and once again, skedaddled.

Holy shit, I thought. Who IS this cat from hell?

I was now shedding tears of frustration. Sending her away was a difficult enough task, but now I was fighting with her and losing desperately. (Cleo meanwhile, purred like a motor boat in her carrier and was totally oblivious to the surrounding chaos.) I looked up at Dr.G with my mouth puckered and my eyes wet. “What am I going to do?” I wailed. “I can’t do this. She doesn’t want to go and I can’t make her!”

“You can” he gently urged. “You can do it. Take a deep breath. We’ll hunt her down and try again.”

We entered my room like Holmes and Watson in pursuit of a clue, only to find the bed empty. She was not there. As a matter of fact, she was no where to be found. I sniveled as the vision of the plane rising in the sky without me, resurfaced in my brain. “How can I put her in that box,” I moaned, “when I can’t even FIND her?”

Although sans magnifying glass, we searched everywhere: in the window seat, under the couch and chairs, in the kitchen, bathroom, computer room, every room. The only place left was the lower level. Gingerly, we prowled down the stairs in single file, tiptoed along the hallway, and carefully peeked around the corner. There she was; sunning herself on the window sill of Brek’s old bedroom. She eyed me with contempt and distrust from across the room. She muttered annoyance under her breath. She stared me down as I approached, step by patient step… and then she dashed off the ledge and scurried around us, heading straight for the stairs. Dr. G tried to head her off, but she picked up speed and out-flanked him. I lunged like a base-runner trying to steal home plate, only to skim the surface of her tail as she whisked through my fingers. Instead of sleuths, we more resembled Keystone Kops who were comically foiled at every turn. With arms flapping, we scrambled up the staircase and I made one last grab as she clawed for the top step… SNATCH…. I bagged her. She caterwauled, I caterwauled and while holding her in a viselike grip, I not-so-gently shoved her ass in the cage and locked the door.

Now, flooded with a great sense of relief, I noticed that we were all four boohooing: two bitchy little cats (Cleo had now joined us in empathy) and two grown adults. The experience had been emotionally exhausting and left me panting… until… as if on cue, there was a telepathic exchange between Dr. G and I. Instantly, we ceased sobbing and began snickering. This high speed chase, which had never been included in any script we had read, now had us cracking up. As the scenes of our ridiculous escapade replayed in our heads, we laughed harder. And the finale, was that we found ourselves roaring over the fact that these two, pea brained knuckle-heads had nearly outwitted us.

I told you… You just gotta love Skylar June!

I blew kisses and waved farewells as my three soulmates drove out the driveway and down the street. As the car turned the corner and left my sight, I felt a twinge of melancholy but also an explosion of exhilaration. It was time to go to France… and I never looked back.