If you want to liven up your morning, try getting a feral, nursing momma cat into a cat carrier.
Today the cats were supposed to go to the vet. Supposed to. The kittens got there. Momma cat kicked my ass.
I tried the gentle approach first. Coaxing, tuna (that's still a good idea, Bridgett), etc. Nope. She backed herself into the furthest corner under the bed. Please keep in mind that I have fostered these guys for a week and a half now and Momma has not yet let me pet her; not a good sign. So I shut the bedroom door and tried to nudge her out from under the bed with a broom, at which point the shit hit the fan. I think she hit every single spot in that bedroom except the carrier, moving at about 90 miles an hour. She was literally running up the walls trying to get away.
At one point I got close enough to try and throw a towel over her, which is when she lunged past me and scratched the shit out of my FACE in the process.
So! The babies are at the vet's being tested (feline leukemia, distemper, etc.), which should give us a pretty good idea of Momma's health, since whatever Momma has, she passes on to the kittens. If the kittens test ok, they will come back home with me and Evil Momma for another three weeks, at which point they will go back to the shelter to be adopted and Momma will go to the shelter to be spayed.
And the shelter workers are going to come to my home that day with NETS to get Momma. Just like on Animal Precinct!
You know, I feel sorry for Momma, I really do. She's just trying to make her way in a world she doesn't understand, and unless she calms down after being spayed, her chances of adoption are very small.
But! There's always hope. Here's hoping.