The spinster librarian

There I was, all back from my snowboarding trip, all feeling empowered, all feeling cool - blah, blah, blah. Then on the Tuesday after I had to take my kitties to the vet for their annual check-up and shots. No problem. I left work at 2 and headed home to pack up the cats and go to the vet, located in my former neighbourhood.

First, I had to stop at the pet store near my subway stop in order to pick up an extra cat carrier. That was easy to find, and with a cool knapsack cat carrier in hand, I made my way home. The cats were happy to see me and one by one I lured them into the front entrance and stuffed them into their respective bags. They weren't happy, and Tasha in particular was vocal and miserable, but compared to other times when I've had to wrestle with them to get them in their bags, I had gotten off easily. Off I went to the end of my street to hail a cab. One came quickly, and me and the kitties were soon deposited at my vets. So far, so good.

I went into the waiting room, got settled, and then went up to the receptionist. She immediately noted that my appointment was in fact for Wednesday. Furthermore, they were booked solid and there was no way that the vet would be able to see me that day. Suddenly my miraculously easy vet trip was becoming hell. There was *no way* I could take another afternoon off work, and what's more, there was no way I was going to have an easy time tricking the cats into letting me get them anywhere near their cat carriers the next day. I fought back the tears and shuffled away, cats and carriers in hand. I ended up rebooking for a few Saturdays from now [I'll face that ordeal when I come to it].

However, not one to have a wasted trip, I decided that I would first go to the pet store right next door and pick up some cat litter. I knew that I couldn't carry two cats and a 40 pound bag of cat litter, so for some bizarre idea of logic, I opted to buy TWO fourteen pound bags of litter instead. The to compound the matter, I was going to pay for the litter with my credit card, but instead decided to pay cash - which used up the last of my cash.

What this meant was that I now had two cats, two bags of litter, and absolutely no money to get home. Moreover, I realized belatedly that I also did not have my bank card meaning no chance of going to an ATM. Apparently most cabs now take credit cards, but I didn't realize that. As such, I trudged toward the subway. Normally it would be an easy 5 minute walk from that pet store, but with all my baggage, it took more like fifteen.

Fur's cat carrier was actually a backpack, so in order to free up arms for carrying the litter, I had it on my back (on the way to the vet I had carried it like a normal bag). Tasha, in her bag, I had slung over one shoulder, and in each arm I carried a bag of litter. I looked completely insane. Not to mention that Tasha was howling non-stop so it was the equivalent of having a neon sign above me directing everyone to "look at the crazy person".

I made it onto the subway and had a brief reprieve before arriving at my stop and facing a fifteen minute walk home. By this time my arms had given out. I realized that with my current configuration I was never going to make it home. Fur's backpack carrier had a strap that went around my waist for support and security. In desperation, I attached Tasha's carrier to the strap. Now I had Fur securely on my back, Tasha in her bag swinging against my thigh, and both arms free for carrying the bags of litter. Alas, it was not enough. My weak noodle arms could not hold both bags.

My next configuration consisted of me placing one bag of litter on top of Tasha's carrier, and hugging the remaining bag to my chest. Tasha's carrier is soft-sided, but it has enough strength that the bag was not crushing her. Let's recap: I now had one cat in a backpack, one cat in a bag hanging from my waist, a bag of litter on top of that bag, and a bag of litter clutched in front of me - and Tasha howling incessantly, drawing all attention to me. I looked like such a loser and felt so utterly defeated. By miracle I did not run into any ex-boyfriends at this point. I staggered home and dropped everything at the door, including the cats. I let them out of their carriers outside, but they wanted nothing more than to get back inside.

This past week-end I once again took the kitties to the vet. This time I made sure that I was going on the correct day and that I had enough cash for a cab. It was remarkably painless and both kitties are in good form. I do learn.