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I remember when, as a child, we had to take our cat to the vet for the very first time. We got him quite happily into his basket/woven kitty transporter and carried him to the car and put him in the back, as he happily curled up and dozed. About three quarters of the way, this strange unnatural, unholy sound welled up from the back of the car and built and built and built until it felt nearly deafening. At which point his basket seemed to become possessed by poltergiest demon bent on combining break-dancing, fractal movements and the study of levitating chaotic pendulums into a new dance fad.
I still have no idea how he knew we were going to have him "seen to".
Interestingly, when the vet saw him, I'm told, the first thing the vet said was "my, he'd make a beautiful pair of mittens", at which point our cat's ears promptly when flat, his hair stood on end and he started backing away from the vet. Problem was he was on a stainless steel inspection table at the time, and was promptly left clinging to the edge (somehow, we have no idea how) by his claws.
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