We're country

Whenever Layla and I make the long journey home, she always spends the full three hours crying and hurling her body around her tiny cage. This inevitably leads me to bash my head against the steering wheel repeatedly, until my brains seep out of my ears and block the transmission of the sound. So this time, instead of making my tender, postoperative kitten ride home in her carrier, I let her roam the car and snuggle on my lap. Britney Spears would be so proud.