The household kitties are finally going back to their family… in Maine. For readers unfamiliar with the location of New Mexico, it’s somewhere between Guatemala and the United States. In order to return the kitties, they must be accompanied by an adult. Because the owner can’t medically fly, that leaves me. Humor writers often dream about the chance to do ridiculous acts. Now here is my chance.
Flying kitties isn’t really that crazy. Animals fly all the time. The crazy part is that I am flying out to Maine for the expressed purpose of escorting the cat. Usually the only escorts that fly to far locations at the expense of someone else are personal assistants of celebrities, like Tom Cruise. In my case, I’m the personal assistant of a cat.
Most assistants preform various tasks like buying a meal, standing in line at the checkout, and shaking Tom Cruise’s penis after he pees. My duties are pretty simple, make sure the cat is well drugged for the flight. The cat in question loves to claw at the cage, so much that she will hurt herself in the process. Because of this frantic seeking of removal from the cage, the vet won’t clear her to fly without an escort.
I’m sure there are plenty of celebrity assistants strictly there to keep their employer well medicated, like Lindsay Lohan or Scott Weiland’s assistant for instance. My task is take the kitty from New Mexico to Maine without the kitty hurting herself in the process. The task sounds simple but there are a few considerations:
The Cat Carrier: Stuffing a cat in a carrier is like trying to remove the blades of a lawn mower while the power is on. The drugs should help with the inevitable claw frenzy but kitties really have a knack for struggling. From the cats point of view, the cat carrier really only has one destination, Catschwitz. Only days later, when the fear subsides and they peak out from the bed will they realize they are happily united with their owner.
The Passengers: Babies crying on planes will annoy travelers. But the baby doesn’t know any better and the parents can’t exactly put their child in the cargo hold (although I’m sure if the option was there, many parents would). The low guttural mur of a kitty, may not inspire the other passengers to be quite so understanding. Lucky enough, I thought about the possibility of confrontation with another passenger and will say, “It’s not my cat.” Hopefully, the irony of the situation will inspire levity before I become the victim of an airport’s first ever briefcase related violent crime.
Time: When will the doped up kitty become more cogitative? Maine and New Mexico aren’t exactly “a flight in time for tea.” My total journey, including layovers, is about ten hours. The cat will have more than enough time to be aware of the in flight movie, Oscar’s Escape from Catschwitz. I can’t exactly open the cat carrier to re-dose the kitty, unless Samuel L. Jackson is there to help me find the cat in Angry Kitties on a Plane. But I plan to bring the cat food laced with a second dose if the cat becomes a danger to herself.
No matter want happens, the trip should be funny but hopefully not in the wacky, “I show up in Maine clawed, bruised, and with slew of wacky co-stars sort of way. “
Time Burrito 