Captain Mom's Log: (Week 9): Day 63
(A by-the-way-this-also-happened-in-Week-9-but-was-unrelated-to-Gradschool-Black-Hole side note)
Getting Oliver in the carrier was not easy. After three failed attempts to shove the beast through the tiny door (how did Oliver get so big??) and Chief Mate laughing hysterically, I tried putting treats in the back of the crate. But it was too little too late and Oliver was far from dumb. He made sure to give me a side-eye and silent meow in protest of my feeble effort. We had to take the crate apart and rebuild it around him.
"I think we need a bigger carrier," Chief Mate surmised.
"Duly noted," I heaved the box into the air.
Cats have a way of shifting their weight the entire walk from the house to the car so that you have to constantly rebalance your limbs so as to not throw your back out (again).
From the parking lot we called Dr. Boyles and informed the front desk that we had arrived.
"Now what?" Chief Mate asked.
"Now we wait."
"For them to come out and get him."
After a masked (and in the parking lot) series of questions, Dr. Boyles pulled Oliver's carrier from the car and took him in.
"Now what?" Chief Mate asked again.
"We wait again," I said.
After several radios songs (I can't believe I missed radio so much), I got a phone call with a run down of our animal's health.
"Oliver is in extremely good health for a 16-year-old cat. We treated the ear infection. Keep letting him out if you can, a happy cat is a healthy cat."
Good Old Man Cat. I paid over the phone and Dr. Boyles returned our feline to the car.
"That's it?" Chief Mate asked.
"That's it," I said.
"Now we go home," I said.
What a bizarre new world.