Well, I just had some of the most horrible fifteen seconds of my adult life.

I was bringing Ben back from the vet, and had lugged the carrier halfway up the steps to my apartment–and the handle of the carrier broke off in my hand.

The carrier, cat inside, hit the stairs, rolled over, and bounced down half a flight of steps before coming to land, upside down, on the ground.

My stomach did about the same thing.

Now, he appears to be fine. (The same cannot be said of my nerves.) The carrier was thickly padded with a towel and there wasn’t much space to rattle around in. He’s not limping, dazed, bleeding, mewing, or displaying any signs of pain whatsoever, and while he’s had a long day at the vet and isn’t quite in the mood for a complete going over, doesn’t appear tender anywhere in the usual petting zones. He’s putting his full weight on all four legs and jumps easily, and doesn’t seem to be cleaning any part of his body more than usual.

I’ll watch him like a hawk for the next few days–if he shows any signs of any stiffness, I’ll have him back in there like a shot.

And now I need a very stiff drink, and to go take a blowtorch to that motherfucking cat carrier.

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