Moss, is humor writer from Tennessee. She writes a
weekly human interest column about daily life and the funny
things that happen to everyone.
She has written for the Daily News of Kingsport, Griffin Journal,
Oakridge Now, Atlanta Woman Magazine, Aberdeen Examiner, Angleton
Advocate, and Smyrna AM, a supplement of the Murfreesboro Daily News
Journal. She has been
published by Voyageur Press, McGraw Hill, and the good folks
at Guidepost Books. Her articles have appeared in
numerous anthologies and other publications, both in print and online.
She is a
former board member and past Editor of the Columnists.com, website of the National Society of Newspaper
oldest and largest professional organization
for columnists. She is the Web Editor of
Humorists.com and a founder of the Southern Humorists writers'
organization. She is writer, editor, and webmaster of HumorColumnist.com.
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Online Since 1999
said, "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned." was
incorrect. Hell hath no fury like a cat that has to visit the
veterinarian. This cliché was clearly demonstrated to me last
I was sitting at my computer at home on Saturday morning,
still in my robe, drinking coffee and reading my email. It's
Saturday, after all, why rush? My daughter came in: "Did
you take the cat already?"
"Take the cat? Where? OH! NO!" I had 15 minutes to
get dressed and get there. I had made the appointment a month
ahead as Saturday appointments are so hard to get -- how could
I jumped into jeans and a sweatshirt and grabbed the cat
carrier. "Where is the cat?" How is it that animals
seem to know when it is time to disappear? A frantic search
under the beds, behind the furniture, and in the closets and
garage finally produced a cat.
Trying to get a reluctant cat into the carrier would make a
good comedy sketch. Somehow she became all legs and claws. She
sprawled her legs, caught the edge of the door, twisted and
fought frantically, and refused to get inside. I eventually
managed to squeeze her in and convince her that she was going
whether she liked it or not.
I thought she would scream all the way there, but actually she
was pretty good considering that cats, unlike dogs, hate
riding in the car. I turned on the radio as I've always heard
that music soothes the savage beast. I'm not certain if that
includes country music, but that's all I could find on the
radio. She was strangely silent, however, pretending that she
was not there, probably hoping that I would forget about her.
I sped to the vet's office, keeping an eye in the rear view
mirror -- not that I would exceed the speed limit, of course.
I screeched into the parking lot, grabbed the cat carrier and
ran inside, only 5 minutes late.
"Is Frisky here for her shots?"
At about that moment, Frisky realized where she was and let
out a blood-curdling howl that would have rivaled any of her
wild African cousins. Apparently, she recalled her last
experience at the vet and had no intention of repeating it.
"It's only shots this time!" I told her. Of course,
she didn't understand and continued to scream bloody murder as
we were ushered into the examination room.
For all the difficulty I had getting her in
the carrier, you would think it would be easy to get her out.
Are you kidding? She made herself as flat as possible at the
back of the carrier and tried hard to become invisible.
Finally, I had to drag her from the box. Her heart was
pounding and I knew she was scared to death.
I tried to calm her but her eyes remained wide and her heart
rate fast. The vet came and did the necessary deed quickly.
Frisky was now finished for a year. This time, I had no
problem getting her back into the box where she again squeezed
herself into the corner and tried to disappear.
We had a peaceful ride back home. Thank God for cat carriers.
I could never have done it without one. The cat meowed some,
but I think she was just complaining to me about taking her to
that horrible place where innocent cats are jabbed with
Back home, I opened the door to the carrier and she shot out
like a bullet and ran to the back of the house and hid under
the bed. I've not seen her since. I know she still lives here
as her cat foot is eaten and the litter box needs cleaning.
Apparently, she has finally accomplished her goal of becoming
Copyright 2005 Sheila Moss
Nashville, TN 37219
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