I know there are several folks out there who have dogs who jump at the chance to go for a ride in the family car. When the Little Imp and I loaded up to run something through the drive-thru at the bank, I had no idea we had a stowaway.
I began to back out of the driveway, when, from the backseat I hear excited peals of laughter in between the Little Imp saying; "Griffy, you tails in my face!"
I thought to myself, "Self, surely she's talking about her imaginary cat friend, Griffy and not our huge orange fluffy tumbleweed?" No sooner had I finished that thought when another round of giggles began with the Little Imp asking me to get a cat hair out of her mouth.
I put the Jeep in park and turned around and this is the sight that greeted me:
Remind me never to doubt it when the Little Imp talks about there being a cat in back seat with her.
As much as this cracked me up, and it did, I made him get out because sure enough, the minute I'm miles away from home and open the door, I'd be willing to be money that he'd take off like a bat out of hell. He has never been known to enjoy car rides. Probably because they always end up at the vet, where someone inevitably sticks a needle in his ass, or shaves him almost bald.
In the future, regardless of his propensity for hopping into the car as we're about to leave , it's doubtful you'll ever see a black Jeep driving down the road with a 20lb orange Maine Coon hanging his head out the window, ears blown back flat against his head; with his tongue lolling to one side of his open mouth.
