I'm used to taking The Family Dog to the vet. No problem. He gets in the back of the car, looks out the window until we get there, and is as joyously enthusiastic about being at the vet as he is about being anywhere else.
It must be close to twenty years since I have had to take a cat anywhere in a car and it has been five or six years since Scraps the cat had to get in a car. The convergence of the two was not ideal. She yelled. She squawked. She hollered. She bellowed. I tried to turn on the radio to drown her out, but I couldn't take the combined noise level. It took about twenty minutes to get to the vet and I was a nervous wreck by the time we got there. The vet put a little catnip and some treats on the examining table to help Scraps feel at home. That was hospitable, but what about me? I could have used a nice glass of Chardonnay and a piece of chocolate, myself.