He whimpered a bit, then was stoic for the rest of the ride, watching me as I drove.  When I opened the carrier in his ancestral garden he cried again.   His sister, the alpha kitten, hearing this, came towards his cage as he emerged.  He went into the bushes and straight to business: a long piss.  Then he hunched like Arnold Palmer, instead of a putt he dropped a long, slow turd.  He kicked some leaves over it, found the food bowl, had a bite to eat, and dashed off in the direction his sister had walked off in.