How does he always know?!?

I had to take Amos to the vet this morning, for his dreaded overly-expensive much-needed dental appointment. He was bouncing around the house prior to our departure, meowing up a storm, and getting underfoot. But when I returned from retrieving his cat carrier, he was nowhere to be seen. It was like he had disappeared entirely, as if he'd somehow managed to build a kitty disappearing bag, so invisible was he. I checked out all of his usual haunts. No Amos. Finally, in desperation, I looked under the guest bed (which is sort of inaccessible because it's largely blocked by stacks of bamboo flooring and a big roll of underlayment). And that's where he was. It took two of us ten minutes to get that fat bugger out from under the bed, and yet more than I wonder how he got under there, I really wonder how he knew we were going to the vet in the first place?!?

Update: Do you need an update? I think you need an update. Amos had a cracked tooth and it'll need to be extracted. Suddenly I'm feeling guilty for calling him a "fat bugger," among other things. Story at 10.

Updated Update: So yeah, extracted tooth and all. Apparently the tooth broke while they were trying to extract it, whereupon the doctor ordered an xray to see if anything remained behind. Lo, there was the root, so they drilled it out. Apparently the little guy is going to be fine, and the $310 initial quote is looking more and more like I should just turn over my paycheck this Friday. (I don't know if I should be more alarmed by that thought, or the reality that my paychecks are quite small. Hmm.)