He was the best of cats, he was the worst of cats... December 09 2017, 0 Comments
A Tale of two Kitties
(well, five kitties)
Chapter One: the Goon
When I am not a florist, apparently I am the local cat lady. I guess we all knew it was coming.
But I can explain!
We have a cat, Mr. Bingley. You may have seen him hamming it up in photos here. At 17 pounds, he is like a mini panther... but he is needy, and still loves to play non-stop. We thought maybe if we got him a companion cat, he would stop entertaining himself by tackling my face when I am sitting on the couch reading and not doing enough cat-related things.
We pondered this idea off and on. The goon is such a goon... best or worst idea ever?
Chapter Two: where the wild things are
In late October, we noticed a little grey stripey cat hanging around our backyard. We'd
put food out for her sometimes. One morning I realised she wasn't alone- she had a kitten with her. Not brand new, probably a couple months old... but we were due for a cold snap.
I went on a google binge. I contacted animal and feral rescue places on facebook. I put a box outside for the critters and fed them every night. One dark and stormy night, the mom and kitten ran away, as they always did while I refill the kibble...
but this time I heard extra scrambling/scratching noises, and a second kitten and I scared the crap out of each other before running away in opposite directions.
The next week, I borrowed a couple live traps... and within an hour, there were two scared kittens and their furious mom in our spare bathroom
We got the kittens to the Humane society (they are less poopy! They are gaining weight! They are having shots/ medical treatment and being socialised. You should adopt them when they're ready!)
The mom outsmarted us for another week. She was an expert at hiding behind the toilet.
My secret for getting an angry stray out of your spare bathroom?
1. Follow internet instructions to make a barricade/tunnel so the only option from behind toilet is carrier.
2. Realise Cat is smarter than you.
She just squished up smaller and hid even more efficiently. I tried to get her to move with a broomstick. A toilet plunger. A bit of leftover flexible pipe from the furnace.... no dice!
I crammed a dropsheet down the side of the tank and wall, to try and block off the hiding spot. She magically contorted herself even smaller with her head behind the off valve.
I shoved pillows, trash bags and an entire roll of paper towel behind the tank in an effort to displace cat. I used Spence's brewing spoon with the long handle to try and shove her without hurting her.
She just looked up at us, .trash bags and paper towels raining down to bury her alive, as if to say "I don't even care. Why don't you just KILL ME. " This may be when the crying started (Me. And possibly Spence.)
Eventually, the cat emerged, like a defeated snowboarder on an avalanche of trash. We took her to the Humane Society as well.
Latest update is she finally let vets examine her, and is warming up a little... but her name is now "Frostbite'. So she might not be over her stay with us....
Chapter three: Friends?
Part of the reason ol' Frosty wouldn't settle at our house? A certain resident cat meowing and scratching the walls 24-7 trying to get in. Clearly he wanted a friend! Our idea was
a good idea!
We went to the shelter Christmas adopt a cat event and found a cute kitty. Small, not intimidating. LOVES to play. And looks exactly like our kitty (except for a missing back leg. She motors around really well post-amputation.)
And we brought her home, with base camp in the spare room while everyone gets used to each other.
And the 17 pound cat was terrified of the tiny kitten.
He hissed at the door.
He was scared to go upstairs.
He tried to barf on the rug as an act of protest.
He could only be bribed with treats, catnip, more treats... sigh.
Little kitty is so impatient to play and explore. We have had several jailbreaks... the clash will come soon.
PS. Weekend update: