In a little while, I will stuff both cats into carriers and begin the forty mile journey to the vet.
The first ten miles will be filled with outraged kitten meows demanding an explanation of this most horrible treatment. I tell them they are required by law to have a rabies shot and if they do not, the kitten police will arrest them. They do not care, preferring to live as vaccination banditos, the Under the Bed Gang.
Around mile eleven, Thor will have a massive freak out, screaming and clawing at his cage.
Around mile fifteen, Loki will begin hyperventilating, panting like a dog. (Once so loud I thought it couldn't be him, there had to be something wrong with the car.)
At mile twenty we will arrive at the vet. Silence will fall as they huddle in the very rear of the carriers, which we will have to dismantle to get them out.
The kittens that I had to shove into carriers will at this point leap back into the safety of their shelter.
The twenty miles back will be mostly silent, broken occasionally by a heart felt "I hate you" meow from Thor.
They will spend much of the afternoon hiding in the Under the Bed Gang Cave, refusing to even acknowledge my presence. Unless, of course, I open a can of tuna.
Loki sez: Look how sleepy we are. How can you disturb us?