Wednesday with Mija
My people have an old one with hard plastic sides. Every time we go to the vet, they push me into it against my will.
For some reason totally unknown to me, they think because the carrier is a dusty purple color, it somehow makes it tolerable for me.
I find the entire process humiliating.
I mean really.
How would you like to be shoved into a shoebox and carried by a handle that gives the box a decided tilt?
No one would.
So the last time I was visiting the vet for my back problems, I had to travel in “the box.”
Mind you, it was not without sufficient complaining on my part.
Once in the exam room, they opened the door and I was set free. Problem was, I was in a place I didn’t want to be.
I recognized the location immediately and knew it meant poking, prodding and all manner of other things I don’t appreciate.
I did what any thinking animal or person would do. I tried to get back into the cat carrier.
I pressed on the door with all my might, but it wouldn’t budge.
More than ever I wished for opposable thumbs!
It did get me thinking about the cages in which we all tend to find ourselves.
Sometimes the thing we think is the barrier to our freedom isn’t a barrier at all.
And other times, we cage ourselves without even knowing we do it.
It seems to me it’s all a matter of perspective.
What cage are you trying to break in or out of?