Driving Mr. Sashi

It always seems that just when I think my life can't get any weirder, well, it does.

I have spent weeks working on my house getting it ready to sell. I love my house, but the time has come for the "Leave it to Beaver" house to be passed on to another big family, or at least some really rich folks who can pay to heat it above the bone-chilling 62 degrees I've kept it at every winter .

A ritual part of putting your house on the market is after you've scrubbed, weeded, patched and painted yourself into a mere nub of who you once were, is the tour of the MLS (multiple listing service). This swarm of human locusts descends upon your home, whipping through it at breakneck speed and judging every nook, cranny and burned out light bulb.

As the lowly owner of the house I needed to vacate, and since there would be many people in and out, my cat Sashi needed to leave too.

Having spent the morning vacuuming myself out of every room, scrubbing my shower within an inch of its life and folding about 100 loads of laundry that had piled up while I painted and met newspaper deadlines, I didn't have time to prep the cat for the ensuing adventure. Meaning, when the Realtor called and gave me the "Thundercats are go!" signal, I threw the litter box in the back of my wagon, grabbed the cat and zoomed out of here.

As I drove down the road, meowing cat clutching the back of my car seat, I thought that perhaps placing him in his carrying case might have been a better idea.

I didn't know where to go, so my howling companion and I rolled aimlessly down the streets of my town. Certainly going for coffee was out of the question, I feared he'd bolt out the door and I'd never see him again, and really, who could have blamed him? Plus I only had enough cash in my pocket for one coffee, how rude would that have been to not offer him a latte?

We do live on Cape Cod, so finally I decided to take Sashi to the beach. Not to frolic in the sand or go for a swim, but to look out at the water and appreciate this lovely place where he lives.

He wasn't impressed.

Sashi is an indoor cat, a decision my kids and I made after our last cat became dinner for a coyote. His entire world is the square footage within the confines of our house. He is the king of the castle in the world he knows, but out there, thrust into a space he didn't know, he was a quaking pile of fur. I felt terrible, but my Realtor had promised me that this would be about a half an hour at best.

A half hour went by, then an hour. No call on my cell. I amused myself by texting with my son who must have been very bored at work to spend time communicating with mom. I sent all three of my kids pictures of Sashi in the car, (I'm sorry my tech ability doesn't extend on how to put pictures from my phone here) and I think they truly thought I had finally lost it and was now so desolate I was taking the cat on errands and appointments with me.

I tried singing the theme song from "Toonces the Driving Cat" to him, but that was way before his time and he didn't like it. Time dripped by, I read People magazine and Sashi sat quietly it the backseat having declined any reading material.

Finally, after an hour and a half I got the all-clear call to come home.

I don't know who was happier me or the cat. Probably him. I'm used to the car.