What makes Milo clairvoyant when I don't let him know until the last minute that I have plans for him he may not like?

This morning I behaved as I do every other morning, other than to not let him outside. When I was ready to pick him up and put him in the carrier (already in the car), he rushed off and hid under my king-sized bed, in the middle.

Then we had five very unpleasant minutes of my poking him with a mop in order to get a grip. Back and forth we went, round and round, sweating and meowing.

When I finally got us on the road, he threw up in a noisy and aromatic way. The woman at the Humane Society did eventually cut his nails, but what a frufrala.