When we brought Olive home from the 92nd Street ASPCA she came in a cardboard box with holes punched in it, out of which her paws swiped at my ankles for the entirety of the hour-long subway ride home.
Throughout her summer of misadventures I carried young Olive to and from the vet in this ramshackle box, a round-trip walk of nearly forty minutes. These journeys were always exquisitely unpleasant, the cumbersome box threatening to give way under the weight of the three-legged demon contained within. Upon her last ferrying (the time she caught the front door swinging open with her paw, an act that caused one of her little toe pads to separate, a condition that caused me to wake up in a bed full of bloody footprints) the vet suggested, kindly, I throw the box away. He said this through a smile that was probably at least partially forced, arms covered in claw marks, our box rattling and shaking on the waiting room counter. When I took it home it was full of blood, hair.
That’s when Jade came to town.
Jade, 1/5 of the greatest band of travelling friendship that had ever been, came to sweaty New York at the end of the summer for our first 5/5 reunion since we left each other on that Leeds sidewalk in May 2009. For much of her stay Jade was my bedmate and houseguest and she was very sweet, leaving me with a little plant called a Baby Jade (ha.) and a very fine replacement for Olive’s blood box.
Luckily, in the meantime, Olive has been very healthy and so we just used it for the first time on Friday, when we took her to the vet for a vaccine update.
Look at that swagger.
Jade, this is a sincere thank you– this luxurious cat carrier with a faux sheepskin lining might be the nicest thing we own, and Olive certainly agrees.