With the way the animal control officers loaded the cage into the truck, I couldn’t undo the latch myself, which meant I was stuck waiting as the truck made its way through the busy city traffic. At least it was the fall. Roasting in this metal cage in the summer heat would’ve been an even worse nightmare than the one I was currently living. Of course, with as exhausted as I felt after that big chase, I soon found myself dozing off.
“Are you sure they’re not full here, too?” one of the animal control officers said as he hefted my cage out of the truck.
“No, I already checked,” another one replied. “This one has the space we need.”
So, we’d driven to a shelter that was farther away. That didn’t bode well. Kaye would probably be looking for a shelter closer to the dog park and even if I could get to a phone, I didn’t know her number.
What a disaster.
They were going to neuter me for sure.
The men jostled my portable prison as they carried me inside. With the languid movement of someone operating on autopilot, they attached the carrying case to a large stationary cage, then slid the door open and used a little stick with a flat bottom to push me out.
Of course, none of these dunces were prepared for catching a cat who could think like a human. And as they secured this new cage, I found myself grinning like a Cheshire cat.
“Sit tight, little guy. The vet will get to you when he can, then you’ll get a nice bath to clean you up.”
“Ugh,” the other one said. “He needs it. I thought cats hated water and mud.”
They continued chattering as they left, and I found myself once again stuck in a room full of cats. Great.
Of course, this time, I had a means of escape. The latch system was designed to be easy for humans to use because—let’s face it—most cats didn’t know how to work complex mechanisms.
With the deft maneuvering of my claws and paws, I slid the lock open and nudged the grated door open. I took a moment to survey the room and jumped from the cage, landing lightly on the floor.
“Anybody else want out?” I asked. It would be a lot easier to escape from animal control, if there were a lot more animals they had to try to control at once. Considering it had taken three of them just to catch me, I was confident my math checked out on this.
The other cats couldn’t understand me, of course, but freedom seemed to be a universal concept for all living things.
I got to work, and within five minutes, the room was crawling with cats. Old ones, young ones, fat ones, skinny ones. Cranky ones, too.
Truth be told, a couple of the larger cats that I’d liberated probably should’ve been left in their cages. They stalked around, batting and hissing at the others.
So not helpful.
“Hey, now! Stop that!” I hissed at the brutes as one of them tried to take a swipe at a group of kittens. The commotion sent everyone into a frenzy.
Great. Now I had to literally attempt to herd cats here.
It took everything I had to guide the frightened felines into the bottom cages. They were larger, probably meant for dogs, but they fit a lot of cats. I pushed most of them into the crate as the bullies continued stalking around the room like full-blown tigers.
Without much of a choice, I ducked into the cage with the others, slamming the door shut just as the one of the big cats pounced. His claws connected with the metal bars and the spit from his hiss smacked me right in the face.
Eww.
He could’ve reached me if he really tried, but thankfully, he lost interest quickly. As a precaution, I carefully slid my paw through the cage and latched the door. At least now it wouldn’t pop open unexpectedly.
There were about a dozen cats crammed into the large crate with me. Yeah, I’d made some seriously bad decisions today. The best laid plans of cats and men… or whatever that saying was.
It had been difficult enough to get all the mild-mannered kitties in here. Now we had a confined chaos on our paws, like a storm in a teacup. Some curled up and tried to sleep, while others wanted to play. Still others wanted to examine me with their tongues and noses. Ugh. If only I could explain the meaning of personal space to them.
“Get away,” I grumbled, batting at a tuxedo that had gotten far too close for comfort. Well, looked like I was officially out of the frying pan and into the fire.
I watched as the meanies on the outside explored the room. When I was certain they’d diverted their attention elsewhere, I slipped my paw out through the cage and unlatched it. Carefully, I padded out of the cage and slipped across the room as quietly as I could. None of the more mild-mannered cats followed me, which meant I managed to get some distance without alerting the meanies.
Now I just had to find a way through that door.
I scanned the room in search of options. Stupid spy movies had always taught me to look for vents to crawl through. There was nothing like that in here, but there was a shelf that ran the length of the wall and ended just before the doorframe.
Yup, that would do in a pinch.
Channeling my inner mountain goat, I leapt from crate top to crate top until I was perched next to some old harnesses on the shelf.
One of the brutes spotted me, no doubt wondering how I’d gotten from that lower crate all the way to the ceiling.
Well, for all I knew, he was just thinking about why his mouth tasted like butt. Despite all my time spent in fur, I still had no idea how much cats really understood about the world around them.
This Tomcat seemed to act from a purely emotional standpoint—and right now, he was angry.
He kicked back one of his hind legs, then the other. A low growl escaped his throat, and down went his front end. Wiggle, waggle went his tail.
Any second now he would pounce.
And then what?