Meanwhile, I left it to my husband to secure the carrier. First, the Quack is afraid of him so he would do a better job at handling the carrier. Second, his King Scout and military experience ought to put him in a much better position to do the job.
As husband was securing the carrier, the Quack fought back and husband came in with a nasty claw scratch on his finger. Apparently, the Quack put his claws through the small narrow gaps of the carrier.
Yes, the Quack is angry and I certainly do not blame him.
But husband stared him down. It wasn't an easy job, but finally the Quack lowered his ears and crouched low, but not before trying to rise again.
It's all about aura, vibrations and all those things which I know absolutely nothing about.
Securing the carrier before transporting to clinic.
The Quack even tried to attack the scissors. He must have thought it was two fingers. He bit the scissors...oh my. Finally, it was 10.15am and it was time to go. The carrier didn't look very secure to me, but my husband assured me it was Quack-proof. To play it safe, he did not carry it, but pushed it along the floor to the car.
Again, images of Hannibal Lecter being transported from one maximum security prison to another came to mind. Perish the thought, yikes!
I was going to put the carrier at the back of the car, but husband said no. What if he escaped, attacked us and we get an accident because of it. Haven't you seen enough of those in the movies? That's when prisoners escape, during transportation. Maximum security, he said, we'll have to put him in the boot.
What? The boot? Yes, you don't want to risk getting an accident, do you?
Okay, I whimpered. Make sure he can breathe, please.
Well, of course he can. And it's just a very short distance to the clinic. I checked to make sure there was a big narrow gap from the boot to my back seat at the dashboard so that the Quack has enough air.
Meanwhile, inside, throughout the two-and-a-half hours, Tabs was scared and had hid in the cupboard.
Yes, it's the aura emitted by the Quack, no doubt about it.
Back outside, with the Quack securely in the boot, we drove to the clinic. Even while we were driving there, images of the Quack having escaped very quietly inside the boot and then pouncing on us when we opened the boot and tearing our faces off (reminiscent of what Hannibal Lecter did to the two officers when he was under maximum security) came to mind. Yikes! No, no, not going to happen.
Throughout that 10 minute journey, there was not a single sound from the boot. No sound of any struggle at all. "You think he's broken free?", I asked my husband. We'll never know...
It was early and the clinic was not open yet.
We managed to get a parking slot (pure luck!) and I held the door of the clinic while my husband quickly transported the carrier from the car to the clinic.
Phew!! No incident. Don Don and Ray Ray, the clinic cats, were their usual hospitable selves.
We told the vet that this was a very fierce cat.
The vet said not to worry, he has the "equipment" to handle such cats.
This? Er...it looks like a laundry net to me.
Yes, but do not underestimate the durability of this net. It's from Japan. It's really tough and no stray has ever torn it...yet. Apparently, this is what the vets use in Japan, in handling strays.
How does it work?
Easy, said the vet. You just drop the cat from the carrier into the net and zip up the net. Then, you inject the anaesthesia into the cat through the net and the cat is knocked off. Next you open the zip and do the procedure. After that, while still unconscious, you place the (vicious) cat back into the carrier and that's it.
Then, the vet showed us a worn out fishing net which he used to use, but that one is torn now. "The stray cats", he said, "dogs only have jaws, cats have jaws and claws, they are difficult". Yes, tell me about it. I have 6 titans at home. I thought of asking how Japanese vets plonk pills into tyrant cats, but never mind. Another day.
Note the similarity in their eyes.
So, the vet was very confident about handling the Quack. My husband was worried about Don Don and Ray Ray getting clawed as the two were trying to make friends. But the Quack was silent. Quite subdued. I think it's the strange environment, that's why.
We left the Quack at the clinic and went for breakfast. It should be done by this evening.
When we got home, Rosie was at the patio.
I know, Ginger, you are feeling on top of the world now (so am I) and it's time to let you out.
You're free to go now, Ginger. And don't worry, nobody is ever going to attack you again.
I decided I should keep the cage here, just in case, or as a safehouse for Ginger, since he had come into the cage all by himself to seek help the day he was injured by the Quack. That was just ten days ago...
Here's what my husband thinks: The Quack entered the carrier after seeing Rosie entering it. He must think it's safe because nothing happened to Rosie.
Yes, that could be true. So, Rosie...we both caught Mr Quack! Couldn't have done it without you, Rosie!
Ginger wandered off while Rosie and I cleaned up the cage.
There...our very own "klinik kesihatan" but let's hope we shall never have to use it ever again.
Rosie, sensing that all was well, was so happy, she started prancing around the garden and playing hide-and-seek with me.
You're safe now, Rosie. Mr Quack will not attack you anymore.
All is quiet in the neighbourhood now. The workmen are doing the drains.
Peace and goodwill to all mankind and catkind.
Why, it's Christmas, folks. Joy to the World!