Stockholm Syndrome?

All three of my cats--the late great ZsaSu and Floyd, and Snowcone--have mightily resisted my efforts to get them into the carrier for a visit to the vet. ZsaSu would launch a verbal tirade that lasted for the entire trip to the vet and all the way home; Floyd would plant his impressive paws on either side of the carrier opening, making it a daunting task to get him in there; and Snowcone leads me on a spirited chase through the house that often requires moving furniture and upending mattresses. But each of them exhibited the same strange behavior on returning to the house. The carrier, cushioned with a bath towel for their journey, became their new napping place of choice for a few days and I'd wait to put it away until they returned to their old haunts. This proved true once again this weekend when I returned from the vet with Snow. He's been sleeping in the carrier ever since. Cats are indeed curious creatures. I'm worried about Snowcone because there's been a recurrence of the irritation in his mouth that made him vulnerable to the squamous cell carcinoma that was removed four years ago. Dr. Clarke, our veterinarian, does not think it's a recurrence of the cancer but I bring him back in two weeks to see if the injection of antibiotics cleared up the inflammation. Because the cancer he had is so deadly in cats, I bring him for a checkup every six months. So far all has been well, except for some weight loss. This time he gained a little weight and everything else looks good. So I'm hopeful that it's just an inflammation. I'm counting on him living a long, long time. It's Sunday afternoon and he's curled up in the carrier, sound asleep, oblivious to the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.