Some cats don't mind being trussed up a little.
Bishrito isn't one of them.
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| Ask yourself: Do you feel lucky, Human? |
Maybe it's not too surprising that we found him completely resistant to wearing a halter and walking on a leash, even as a small kitten.
Still, we didn't want to deprive him of the outdoors altogether.
So, I bought Bishrito a stroller.
| The Bish BOB. Click here for purchase information. |
Yes, that's right. At one low point along my infertility journey, I did indeed buy my cat a jogging stroller.
I blame targeted advertising.
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| From the BOB website. |
BOB Sport Utility Stroller
**Kid not included.
Well, I blame targeted advertising and the fact that, for me, being middle-aged without the kids feels something like this:
Bishrito is as much a baby as we will ever have. So, he got a stroller, and a spendy one at that.
On a somewhat less crazy level, a pet stroller did seem like the perfect solution for us. I would have a reason to go jog and Bish would get his outside fix. Everyone would be happy! Bish and I could tour the neighborhood! Mission Bay! The beach!
I was so excited.
At first, the Bish BOB seemed a success. My husband took him on mad bombing runs around the house.
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| Too close for missiles, switching to guns. |
Trips outside in the BOB were another story entirely. I started by taking him on short trips around the block. As soon as we journeyed out of sight of The Beet Ranch, Bishrito the Badass would abandon all pretense of machismo. For most of the walk, he'd run back and forth in the stroller looking distressed and making little-lost-kitten alarm mews. I thought he just needed a little time to get used to the idea, but, turns out, he didn't.
Bishrito got over the Bish BOB the day we met a pitbull in a pick-up truck who looked Bish over like he was a little kitten bon-bon in a $200 wrapper.
I got over the Bish BOB the day an older neighbor came up to see what was in the stroller, and, on seeing it was a cat (not a baby), backed away slowly and went back in his house. At this point, it began to dawn on me that Bish and I might never be wholly welcome at Stroller Striders.
When Bishrito began to seem less than interested in getting in the stroller, we gave it up altogether.
For awhile, I kept the Bish BOB in the spare bedroom with our disaster preparedness kit, justifying its presence as a handy way to evacuate our cats in an emergency. Eventually, I realized it was making me sad. A lot of people our age have actual BOBs in their spare bedrooms. And they have legos, and story books, and hamster wheels, and skate boards, and bunk beds with Disney-themed sheets. In our spare room, we had a zombie attack survival kit, assorted busted stuff, and one extremely dusty, high-quality jogging stroller for our cat.
We sold the Bish BOB for $40 on Craigslist to a great couple, who wanted it for their bulldog with a broken leg. The man seemed a little embarrassed, but the woman was clearly overjoyed to have found a way to help her injured pup enjoy some walks. And the bulldog, in his doggy way, seemed happy that the woman was happy.
And, in the end, that made me happy too.
