Kitty withdrawal
I miss my wicked kitty. Mr. Keats is staying with my brother for a few weeks while we travel.

I drove him to my brother's on Sunday evening and he cried the entire 45 minute trip. I'd packed him in a tall open-top box with a cozy towel and some food. Occassionally, he'd peep his head out of the box, see the cars on the highway behind us and cry even louder, as if to say "What is happening? Oh help!"

The trauma continued when we got to J's. He has two dogs that Keats used to know when he was a kitten. (J's former cat is Keats' mom. She got hit by a car this past spring.) J let Keats get his bearings, then let in the dogs one at a time. The small dog ignored Keats, the big one wanted to play. I hung around for an hour, and Keats was still under the dining room table, back arched, hissing at the big dog like mad.

My poor furry boy. I didn't get to hug him goodbye because he hissed at all of us for fear of the dog. I hope by tomorrow they will have established some sort of pecking order and will get along fine. I guess his casual attitude towards dogs really only applies to his "brother" Nicky.