I'm gonna threaten her with an ankle bracelet, complete with flea repellant.

With every trip we take there is the dreaded drive to the kennel where I have to bail Maggie out of jail. At least that's how she sees it.

When my daughter and I walked in the kennel's office, the sweet lady at the desk asked if she could help us.

How much time do you have?

I told her I needed to pick up Maggie and she pulled the chart. I peered over the counter to read the notes and this is what I saw-

"Very, very angry."


"Not a happy cat today."


"Aggressive."


"Ask owner to get out of cage."

Sigh.

The lady at the desk attempted to comfort me and said,"Don't be alarmed. Many cats are upset to be here. I'm sure she is Okay."

Um, she must be new.

"Oh, I'm not alarmed. She acts like this every single time she comes, only it gets worse. I don't know what her problem is. She used to love the kennel and the attention. Then one day she became an old lady and turned into cranky pants," I explained.

She walked us back to the cat room. It was lunch time and two of the kennel techs, bless their animal loving hearts, were playing solitaire on the computer.

They recognized me as the mother of Maggie, the cat who forces them to register for night classes in cosmetology and happily said,"OH, here comes MAMA!"

I entered the cat room, prepared for Attitude.

Instead, Maggie heard my voice and began to meow- instead of hiss like a venomous viper- as I made my way to her cell, I mean cage.

I put her in her carrier and said to the kennel techs, "Bye-bye, very brave ladies."

"Oh, we're not that brave," they said with a chuckle.

Then I hauled Miss Congeniality out of prison and off to her very cushy life on parole. Martha Stewart never had it so good.