Divisions and Precisions

Demon Rumpus

So, today was Rumpus's infamous trip to the vet to be neutered. I had to have him at the clinic by 8:15 this morning so I wouldn't be late to class.

So, by 7:45, I had scooped up Rumpus and was heading for the carrying crate. Bear in mind that Rumpus has only been in that crate once, and that was the day I brought him home. Apparently he remembered it. Upon seeing the crate he started scrabbling wildly and trying to jump out of my arms. Clever me, I'd anticipated this, and managed to hold on. The crate was sitting on an armchair. I promptly tried to insert Kitten A into Crate B.

Rumpus immediately doubled in size, grew five extra legs and two extra tails. He hooked half of his paws around the edges of the crate, wrapped one tail around the nearby lamp, and employed the rest of his limbs in clawing and clinging to the furniture, all the while chanting, "Hell no, I won't go."

Right. 7:55. Putting the crate on a fabric surface was clearly a bad idea. So I move the crate to the kitchen floor. Once again, insert Kitten A into Crate B. I don't know how, but Rumpus managed to cling to linoleum. Through all of this, Rumpus is wriggling and trying to get out of my arms, creating new and exciting sucking chest wounds on his owner. (Note to self: next time, clip the cats' claws the night before a vet appointment.)

Finally I get the bright idea to turn the crate up on end, and let gravity help me get Rumpus tucked away, as well as remove any clawable surface (other than me, that is) from reach. Bingo! Rumpus is safely enscounced in his little plastic castle, and I'm off to grab a bottle of water and my coat.

Then I heard a demon moaning in my living room.

Now, Rumpus has the cutest, most pitiful sounding kitten meow you've ever heard, despite being nearly as big as Pooka already. He walks around the house periodically going "Weow" in a high-pitched tiny voice. Which is why I was startled to hear a basso profundo howl from his vicinity. Even Pooka freaked, looking at me and giving a startled meow: "Mom, what the FUCK was that?!"

Still, 8:00, on the road and out the door. Demon-Rumpus complained all the way to the vet, then was quiet. When I picked him up, he was obviously afraid, but otherwise okay. Apparently the surgery sent Demon-Rumpus into hiding. When I got him home, he spent a few minutes under the bed then went back to his usual routine. All in all, he's just fine.

He can't fool me though. Not now that I know there's a demon cat hiding somewhere behind the kittenish voice.