Trip to the Vet

Cat in carrier, the one with the jail-like bars over the door, on the way to vet.

MJ the Cat: meowmeowmeowmeowmeowmeowmeowmeowmeowmeowmeowmeowmeowmeowmeow

Translation: I'm being repressed! This is an outrage! I will poop in your shoes as soon as we get home! How dare you confine me in such a way! I have PETA on speed dial!

Once at the vet MJ goes silent.

What he says: nothing.

Translation: Hey, I'm kinda liking this little cottage. The wire door is adorable. Just gonna cozy up back in the corner here. You can't see me if I can't see you, right? No need for me to get out. Forget what I was saying before.

It takes two humans to extract one cat out of the now comfortable abode.

Lesson learned: None. It happens all over again, verbatum, on a subsequent trip to the vet three days later.

Don't get me started on what it took to adminster his medicine. Scarring (mine) was the result.