In Harness at Last

I have never  been the kind of cat to put up with a collar on me. The few times the humans have tried it, I've removed it.

As you might expect.

Unlike Cat1, I didn't spend my kittenhood in the pampered indoor lap of luxury with a passel of other cats. Before I found Boy, I was ALONE on an Indian Reservation full of dogs. 

Vicious dogs.

The humans there watched with amusement as I survived day after day... until the magical day I found Boy. He took me in his arms and I never let him go.  I know a good thing when I find it, and since that day, I've had some strict standards:

1. I've declined to eat raw live food (unlike Cat1, who seems to love it! But I know better. Food you have to catch yourself is peasant food).

2. I push things off high places now and then. Mostly when the Mom needs to be reminded who's boss. 

3. I don't stand for people holding me longer than I want (my growl is fierce enough to dissuade most idiots, though Boy seems to know I'm bluffing and ignores me unless I get really serious and get the claws out) to be held or tying me up or putting collars on me.

But like any good soldier, when the campaign requires it,  I'll rise to meet the occasion! I'm no wimp. So when the humans put all four of us in Danny-the-almost-van car to head to the city for a special shopping trip yesterday, I understood the agenda.

They took me into a store with plenty of interesting smells and sights -- Fairplay Pet Store, it was called -- and sat me down and put a purple harness on me.

Actually, it didn't feel that bad. I kept it on for 6 hours. The Boy took it off at night for me, which was kind, but I asked the Mom to put it back on for me in the morning.

Then I got into this bag, to let them know I'm ready to go.  Cat1 and I are finished with apartment living. We're ready for the open road and a lot more fresh air and exercise. (The humans sure need that too!)