My mission, which I decided to accept, was to get one pissed off Puss into her cat carrier in SF and back to her new home in LA.
Luckily, Bob's dear friend James, agreed to be my cat-napping partner in crime. When James isn't busy trying to pull off the purr-fect crime, he's spinning discs at some of San Francisco's finest underground gay night clubs.
Our mission had its share of challenges, but we were ready for each cat-astrophe. (Sorry - can't resist. I watched way too much Batman with Adam West as a child.)
Obstacle one: We couldn't find a parking place within a one-mile radius of the apartment
Solution: I pulled out my temporary disabled parking pass, which is good until July 18, and parked confidently in a handicapped spot just a block away.
Obstacle two: We had no key to the outside door of Bob's apartment.
Solution: We hung out on the front stoop until a trusting couple let us in with them.
Obstacle three: Puss refused to come out from under the bed.
Solution: James lifted the mattress while I shooed her out. Of course, we first removed any impossible-to-reach cat hiding places.
Obstacle four: Puss slid under one of the book shelves and dug her claws into the carpet. She hissed and tried to bite when I came near.
Solution: We found a pair of ski gloves in Bob's closet. I pried Puss's paws away from the carpet and, with the help of James, crammed her into the cat carrier. I'm unscathed!
We brought Puss to see Master Bob at the VA Hospice for one last goodbye. Bob perked up as soon as he saw his precious Puss.
Puss was surprisingly calm (but not cat-atonic) during her time in solitary confinement in her cat carrier. After a six and a half hours car ride, she's adjusting to her new home with one dog, two other cats and no Bob.