Thursday, December 2, 2010

Why cats do not make good road trip companions

In May my children asked if we could adopt 2 tiny, cute kittens. The answer that came out of my mouth sounded like "yes" although surely it wasn't. Surely I said no.

Junior chose a beautiful calico who he named Madam Moonshine. That is a result of the Hank the Cowdog books, Madam Moonshine is an owl in the series.

I know, I don't understand either why he named his cat after an owl other than he likes the name better than "Mary D Cat".

Madam Moonshine is the more adventurous and playful of the two. She rarely wants to be held and loves to look out the car window.

Daisy wanted this beautiful grey tiger that she named Socks and he turned out to be the sweetest and laziest cat ever. He is also the most laidback cat I have ever seen, we have held him upside down and he just looks around as if he were thinking "this is a different view."

But if you put him in the car, he hates it. HATES it. To go to my family it is about a 5 or 6 hour drive (that does include stops but it is at least 4 1/2 without stops). His first trip he cried the entire way there. Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow. and then he cried all the way back except for the last hour because he was so exhausted.

So for Thanksgiving, I thought I would make the trip easier on him (and us) and give him a benedryl. It worked beautifully until it started wearing off and he began to throw up.

Riding in the car with a vomiting cat is not my idea of fun.

While we were at my family's we took Madam Moonshine to get her fixed and mentioned the whining brother. So the vet was nice enough to give us a sedative to give him to make the trip easier.

He was to take 1/2 a pill 30 minutes before the trip. Since the last time he had gotten a pill, he had gotten sick, he was less than thrilled at the idea of another pill. In fact the lazy cat who normally doesn't fight anything because it is too much effort, fought me about that pill.

So we get in the car and he starts up. Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow.




Thirty minutes later: Meow.



An hour later: Meow.



So we discuss whether or not he had actually gotten the medicine. Meow. And we discuss whether he needs more. Meow. And it is decided that another 1/4 wouldn't be a bad idea. Meow. Meow.

Except now he really doesn't want the drugs but he swallows it at we wait for quiet. Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow.



Again it is discussed whether or not he actually swallowed the stupid pill. Meow. And we don't feel comfortable giving him anything else. Meow. So we just listen to hours more whining. Meow.

We finally get home, unload the car and the cats and about a hour later sit down to relax. Socks jumps up onto the back of the chair glad to be at home and goes to sleep. And then he falls off. And doesn't get up. Daisy asked if he was breathing and was relieved to find out that yes he is breathing but he does seem to be . . . drugged.

He slept for an hour, then went to his water bowl for a drink and either fell in or laid in the water bowl. He was soaked. He went back to sleep, woke up again and again got soaked drinking some water. The next day, he still looked groggy.

We did find out that the drug only works before there is an adrenalin surge so if he had gotten the meds before he got worked up, it would have done it's job. Probably.


  1. OMGOSH. Christ, I am dyin' over here! Tears, girl! Tears!

    This has got to be one of the funniest things I've read in a long, LONG time! Maybe it's because I have Giz and a rambunctious pup, so I know all too well their funny little habits.

    I'm sure the meowing would have drove me bonkers after the first 10 minutes. Y'all have the patience of saints, I tell ya!

  2. Christi. Gees. Freudian slip? I don't like how that first line sounds of my previous comment! For those who don't know me, I'm not using the Lord's name in vain - it's a TYPO! YIKES!