Every month, my boyfriend and I drive to Eugene for his reserve duty. Every month we have to load our cat, Cogs, into the car. He's gotten good at telling when we're getting ready. So good that when it's time to put him in the car, we can only find him under the bed just out of reach. We have to coax him out with toys and treats. (Yes we see who's training whom here) Once, when my boyfriend was carrying Cogs to the car - wrapped in a blanket - he escaped and ended up under our front porch. For an hour.
This month we decided to try something different. We took Cogs for a walk.
Now, Cogs is strictly an indoor cat. He's been outside a handful of times and still isn't used to feeling grass under his feet.
So before we left Eugene we let Cogs walk around my mom's yard. We let him smell the flowers. We let him dig in the leaves. We let him chase pine cones.
It worked. By the time we'd meandered over the car he had no problem hopping in and settling in for the five-hour drive back to Pendleton.
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