BECOMING BETTER

Jean Croker Petke


There’s a Whole Lot a Cryin’ Goin’ On

There’s a Whole Lot a Cryin’ Goin’ On

I loaded T (the cat) into a large carrier, complete with litter box, water and food dishes, and a towel for comfort. I don’t know if he’s ridden in a car much in his short life. We traveled to Lexington, KY — a 3 /12-hour drive from our home.

His displeasure with the adventure started with small steady meow’s. Those small meows eventually turned in to wails and moans and other strange sounds that lasted for all but the last 30 minutes of the trip. I stopped a couple times to check on him, to reassure him, to make sure he still had water and food.  I talked to him the entire trip, hoping the sound of my voice would help him calm down. I reminded him to be Sweet T — that’s what I call him when he’s being nice and behaving. He’s Unsweet Tea when he’s misbehaving, and Iced Tea when he’s not friendly.

While I was driving I thought, “There’s a Whole Lot a Cryin’ Goin’ On,” which sounds like the name of a country song full of sadness and drama and heartbreak. I began to compose the lyrics in my mind as I drove.

There’s a whole lot a cryin

Goin on.

Since you stole me away;

Abducted me across state lines.

I never wanted to leave

But you made me go.

You crammed me into the crate.

You said I would be ok.

You said I would love my vacation

and meeting The Boy for the first time.

Well, I’m hating this ride.

The bumps, the stopping and starting,

The heat, the confinement.

I’m just goin’ keep cryin’

Til you change your mind.

I’m outa here at my first chance.

In hindsight, though I’m dreading the drive home, he’s had a good time. He’s stayed in two different homes in a week and has done fine. The first home had a lovely screened-in porch where he and The Boy (4 1/2 year-old grandson) played and enjoyed the swing. Actually T mostly chased bugs and The Boy and I tossed the football back and forth. Finally The Boy dropped into the swing for a short nap on a lazy summer afternoon.

T and The Boy also enjoyed playing ball in the hall — rolling and chasing, rolling and chasing.

When we moved to the second home, T remained in his carrier for several hours til we all got acclimated to new surroundings. T cried and cried and moaned and howled until I took him to the bedroom where he would reside for the next few days. And he’s been happy ever since. Sweet T is doing no more crying. If the cat’s happy, we are all happy.

The ride home will be just as long as the ride to Lexington. I’m hoping T will understand he’s going home. If he cries, perhaps it will be cries of joy.

Here’s hopin’.

Until next Tuesday . . .

 

 

 

 

 

2 Comments - Leave a Comment
  • Pat Bolan -

    Love it! The blog, that is…have transported animals myself and understand the tribulations, but I love that you seemed to have made lemonade… 🙂

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