Interestingly, Rannie has always cried in the car all the way to and from the vet, a plaintive "Mew! Mew! Mew!" that we've termed the "Kitty Distress Beacon". It's distressing enough that I'm usually murmuring "It's okay, baby, we're almost there. Be a good kitty! You'll be okay!" while driving.
I don't know what it is about the Mustang, whether it's the engine note, or the absence of wind noise, or the different smell of the cloth upholstery versus the Zed's leather seats, or whatever, but Rannie rides quietly in the Mustang.
At the vet, Rannie is such a good patient that all the vet techs, as well as the doctor, fall all over themselves complementing her. Apparently many cats are a handful, especially with needles or thermometers, and try and run away or else try and eat the face of their tormenter. Rannie just huddles there and lets whatever is going to happen, happen, apparently aware that the less fuss she puts up, the quicker she'll be able to slither back into the carrier and go home.
Also, anybody who doubts that our feline and canine companions possess a basic awareness of what's going on has never observed the difference in trying to get a cat into a carrier to take them to the vet, versus getting them in the carrier at the vet to take them home. At home, I have to use guile, trickery, and sometimes main force to get Miss Wu into the carrier. Getting her out of the carrier at the vet is a similar production. But when her checkup is over? Just open the carrier and she will bolt right in, anxious to be whisked homeward.
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