Four hours in with us no closer to victory, that was the thought running through my head. How does Turtle Man* do it? I couldn’t even do it, and I was trying to capture a domesticated house cat.
(*Side note for those clearly not watching enough TV: Turtle Man is featured on the reality show “Call of the Wild Man” for his singular ability to rescue any wild animal with his bare hands.)
Another side note: I know I promised you this sequel like 3 months ago – maybe if the kitties would start writing some blog posts around here I would’ve gotten to it a lot sooner – and I get that you’re not waiting around to find out what happened to my kitty (like caring people), but I didn’t want to leave you hanging in case some of you can’t sleep at night wondering about my kitties.
As I said before Kitty 2 is my kitty not because I declared it so but because she did. Kitty chose me (and despises* all other members of my family). *I’m exaggerating, but she’s not fond of them. So when it came time to move I knew the success of the mission rested squarely on my shoulders. No one other than me (or Turtle Man) could do it, and given only one of us was present, I was under a tremendous amount of pressure. This was only compounded by the fact that Kitty, as you may recall from The Day We Had to Capture Kitty: Part 1, is a very shy and fretful kitty. She is the very definition of a scaredy cat. And I really, really, really did not want to have to be the one to grab her and stuff her into a box. Especially since she’s never even allowed anyone to pick her up. Ever.
But I knew it had to be done. So it was with dread in my heart that Kevin and I set out for the old house after delivering Kitty 1 to the new home and devised a plan to capture Kitty 2.
The plan involved me tricking Kitty into letting me pet her. When the time was right I’d strike, scooping her up and shoving her into one of the large cardboard moving boxes. We’d decided to use a moving box instead of the cat carrier because I didn’t think we’d be able to squeeze her, with her kitty limbs flailing, into the smallish opening of the carrier. I’d had visions of her straddling the carrier opening and refusing to go down. The box would make maneuvering a little easier, I thought, but I knew to close all the flaps except one before we launched our attack. We had to go in prepared, leaving nothing to chance.
As soon as I sat down to pet Kitty, though, she was onto me. The plan wasn’t going to work. With a sinking feeling in my stomach, I concluded I was just going to have to go for it. But with this new plan came an elevated level of risk. We were only going to get one shot at this. When I pounced, I had to secure Kitty on the first try. Then, without a moment’s hesitation, I had to lunge over to the box, shove her in and have Kevin slam down the final flap. The whole operation hinged on mere seconds. In this high-stakes game there was no room for error.
With my heart pounding, I slowly turned my head and locked eyes with Kevin. Standing at his post, he gave me the nod. Everything was in place. Springing into action, I swooped down, snatched Kitty and shoved her into the box.
I couldn’t believe it. I had done it. Success was mine!
Then something strange happened.
As quick as I’d stuffed her in, she popped back out. Then she scrambled up my arm like a tree limb to freedom. Stunned, I took a second to react, and by the time I secured her with my other hand she was already perched on my shoulder. Remaining in position bent over the box, I held her in place as her claws dug deeper into my skin (see, The Great Kitty Claw Clipping of 2013). It was then my thoughts went to Kevin. Where the hell was he?
As I clutched Kitty to my shoulder while waiting for Kevin to possibly step in and help, I wondered how long I could reasonably hold out like this. I didn’t want to let go because trying to recapture Kitty would be nearly impossible, but with her daggers sunk into my now bloody flesh, I knew I couldn’t wait for backup much longer. Finally, I released kitty and looked up to see Kevin standing there, slightly befuddled, staring at me.
“I guess that didn’t work,” he said.
What the hell? You had one job. One. Close the flap. AND YOU DIDN’T CLOSE THE FLAP! I shouted in my head much like the father in Poltergeist when he realizes his company removed the headstones in the cemetery developed for housing but left the corpses (YOU ONLY MOVED THE HEADSTONES?!).
I don’t think Kevin understood, as I did, that was our death knell.
“Did you see how fast she was?” he asked in wide-eyed wonder.
“Um, yeah. I have the scars to prove it.” I collapsed onto the couch. “Now what are we gonna do?” I asked, shaking my head. “What are we gonna do?”
See what we did next time in Part 3 of the Kitty Capture trilogy.
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