In his role as Ultimate Doggie Dad, J recently acquired a nylon carrier that can be mounted to the handlebars of a bike, creating a high-tech version of Toto's basket in The Wizard of Oz. We hoped Peach would like it, and we're pretty sure she did.
Based on our (admittedly biased) interpretation of her expressions, she was concerned at first, but grew more reassured as time went on and she didn't fall out.
We took her around the block, and she was thrilled to be interacting with her neighborhood fan club at face level. I'm not kidding about the fan club, either: a group of four tween girls ran up to us breathlessly asking "Is that Peach?" while nearby tween boys looked on enviously.
Next up, we decided to try Emily, knowing her to be the more malleable of the two cats (at first, anyway).
Emily's reaction seemed a little muted, though; she did that meow quite a few times as we took her around the block.
We also thought she'd enjoy interacting with folks in the neighborhood, because to Emily, every stranger is just a minion you haven't met yet. But there weren't any kids out this time and all we got were a few looks of utter confusion from passing cars (we think we saw someone ask "Is that a cat?!").
Finally, we were down to one remaining pet. When I said, "Come on, let's get the Moj," J's response was: "Wait—you're serious about that? I thought you were kidding!" Oh, honey. I never kid about alarming and humiliating our big boy cat.
We were expecting a replay of what happens every time Mojo goes to the vet: puffiness, hissing, urinating out of sheer terror and a yowl of purest rage. Instead we got:
As with Emily's neighborhood tour, we didn't see any people out (but did startle a few drivers). And as we rode, instead of biting J's hand as we had feared he might, Mojo gently nudged it with his nose, a sign of what passes for happiness with our strange little dude.
Well, he's really not so "little." Mojo was outside the 13-lb. weight rating of the basket, and J said he could actually feel the carrier creaking a bit. Still, I doubt that will be the Moj's last bike ride.
It might be Emily's last ride, though: later that evening, she peed on the bathmat as J was in the shower, then overnight, she threw up in the middle of the kitchen floor. (It's her ability to visualize consequences and plan accordingly that really scares me.)
But in terms of positive pet experiences, two out of three ain't bad.
*You can't really count a small dog as an extra person (although Mojo comes close).