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This happened about 5 years ago, and having told this many times to friends, it is not embellished at all. I promise.

Wife and I are happy with our one cat and several fish. One halloween night a stray mostly orange calico (no, the cat kind of calico, not the one you want on gun broker) come up and mews at me. I pet it, it doesn't freak. Okay I think, calm cat, looks hungry, doesn't have tags or anything. Fine, here is some food. Mind you we are still out in the front yard, with trick or treaters coming by. Cat eats, purrs, lies down, and all is zen. About 9 PM we pack up the decor and start moving stuff inside. Guess who decided to follow us in. Long story so far: WE were adopted by this cat, and being orange and halloween, she is now Punkin. Doesn't exactly get along with the other cat, but okay enough.

I'm heading up to the folks house in NW Arkansas in a week, so wife thinks it may be a good idea to keep the cat, but give them space when we can. Great. The new cat is now coming with me to Arkansas (we live north of Houston, so 9-10 hours travel). I drive an 02 Camaro and with a subwoofer and after a little bit of luggage, there isn't much room. It is decided that a filled litter box should come along for the trip and while and Mom and Dads. It is carefully placed in the back seat behind me so we can have kitty potty breaks as needed. I am already envisioning used kitty litter spilled in the back of my car. Punkin is in her carrier and has started mewing incessantly. My larger suitcase has nowhere else to go but in the front seat, right next to me, leaning up against the glove box. My fanny pack is on my side floorboard with a wallet inside and a 1911 keeping it from sliding around.

Fast forward an hour on the road. The cat is still mewing (seems louder now) and although I could really blast the music, I don’t feel like it. It’s a nice day and the windows are halfway down. Compromise then: roll windows up to just an inch or two, let the cat out of the crate and hope for the best. And it worked. Cat climbs around then takes up residence and silently sleeps on the front passenger floorboard. I can’t see exactly where she is because the suitcase is there. But, all is back to zen, and it being a delightful day, I decide to take Texas 19 (mostly divided 2 lanes in each direction) up through Athens, Palestine and Paris (a world tour) before crossing OK border in Hugo and hopping on Indian Nation Turnpike. In case you are wondering, the police interaction is coming.

North of Paris on 19, there isn’t much at all. Trust me. Not even much traffic. Found three good ol’ boys in pickups doing 10 or so over the limit and so, I bump it up and we are heading north. Did I mention it was a fine day? So anyway, there is very small town (NO Dairy Queen) called Powderly where the speed limit drops to 55 for about ¼ mile before coming back up. No problem. Radar detector has been silent most of the way. Me and my boys do not slow down. No problem thinks I, then, with no sound from the expensive little black box on my dash, I see a black and white heading south on the other side the good sized median. “Shoot” says I. Actually that’s not true, I said something else.

All I can figure is DPS was in stealth mode and trolling for trouble. Turned around and caught up with “us” but let’s see, 3 F150 beaters and a late model Camaro. Hmmm. Yeah, let’s stop that Camaro. I still believe that he had no idea exactly how fast we were going, but…

The cat. The cat could go absolute berzerko in the middle of nowhere and conceivably escape if this doesn’t go well. This is just great thinks I, how would I explain to my wife how the cat got run over by an 18 wheeler. But, I tempt fate anyway (I *believe* Punkin is still asleep on right floorboard) and roll down my window to about 4 inches. Hands where they should be, and my wallet on my lap. 1911 still in fanny pack by my feet. I await The Law. Looking in mirror I see 2 troopers not one. The driver (I’m guessing mid 50’s veteran) gets out, walks slowly to my driver’s side, looks inside the car and says:

“Where’s the cat?” He has seen the kitty litter and the open crate.

And that was not what I expected to hear first off. Fumbling for words, I tried to explain that I wasn’t sure, but thought she was under the suitcase next to me. And that she might get skiddish, so please bear with me. Here is my DL and CHL, there is a pistol in the fanny pack at my feet. “I’ll have to move the suitcase to get my insurance, and I don’t know what will happen then” says I. Not sure what my face said, but it seemed to be in line with my words.

He smirks behind Raybans. “Don’t worry about the insurance, I’ll be right back.” And he takes my plastics back to the cruiser and returns a minute later. “You need to slow it down a little, where you heading?”

I explain the parent and cat bit a little better and he responds by knowing exactly the route I’m taking and cautions me about some construction that turn out to be true. Wow. Other trooper is left in the car as we strike up conversation – off to a bang since we both have old school preferences in pistols. 10 minutes later, I am on my way at 55 mph, and not weighed down by a pink slip of paper.

Did I mention it was a beautiful day? My advice: when traveling, carry a pistol, and carry a cat.
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