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had created she would simply chew it up and spit it out. I finally gave into my fright and my pride, pulled over and called home.

"Husband" was less than happy to hear from me when I called. He could not comprehend how "the sweetest, most gentle cat you'd ever meet" could cause enough trouble to impair my driving skills. He suggested letting the cat out of the box for the remainder of the ride home and see if that helped. With that suggestion, I was thinking, "why don't you just get a gun and shoot me too". The silence from my end said it all, so he asked one more, even dumber question; could it wait until they finished dinner. Huh, stress kicked in and it wasn't a good scene. I had a psycho cat in my car that could EAT its way out of a CARDBOARD box, and I was standing outside the car at a convenience store in the dark and he wanted to "finish dinner"? I told him in my high pitched, tearful voice that if we waited, the upholstery in my car would be shredded like paper and the seats would be reduced to the stuffing that filled them. Needless to say he was there in ten minutes.

So much for surprising the kids, as soon as they got out of one car they made a bee line for mine to get a glimpse of their new crazy pet. Casually, my husband walked over and took a peek through the window. I think he expected a furry creature with gigantic teeth, and sharp nails to fling itself at the window to greet him, but no such luck. He couldn't see anything. Well, he would once he drove it home.

I wished him luck as I settled into his car. Great, now he would experience, first hand, the terror I had gone through. His drive home may even be worse since the cat had violently torn off half of the carrier. She would then, for sure, be loose in the car.

After a few slight swerves into the next lane, my husband straightened out and things seemed pretty smooth. I pictured my husband, hand on tail of cat, which was trying to escape via the space under steering wheel that leads to engine. My palms, again, were starting to sweat. We finally pulled in to the driveway behind the van and I noticed that my husband was not getting out right away. I just prayed that he had made it without too much incident/violence. I lead the kids to the driver's side of the car and what I saw was worse than anything I could have imagined; my husband petting a very comfortable Lucy while she lay in his lap! As the car window slowly fell, the only sound that we could hear was Lucy's strong, friendly purr. When my husband looked up to meet my gaze, I just dared him with my expression to say anything about "letting the cat out of the box".

Learn more about this author, Allison Hickman.
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