My beloved Houdini mangled one of his front paws a couple of weeks ago. He limped bloodily into the house after some inexplicable misadventure. I briefly examined his paw before putting him in the cat carrier and calling the vet. He returned the next day with two stitches, a broken toe, and lots of medication.
The next night, as I was trying to get two pills down his throat, I asked E-spouse for help: “Just stick your finger in between his teeth and pry his mouth open.” E looked at me as if I were nuts. “You want me to stick my finger in the cat’s mouth?” he asked. “Oh come on,” I said. “He won’t bite.” I paused. “Well, he won’t bite me.” I quickly learned to pill Houdini by myself.
Because of Houdini’s injury, I had to keep him in the house for a couple of days. Typically, I leave the cat door open, and my adorable guys take care of their business outside (like real men, Ash. Oh wait. They’re cats. They squat). Anyway, I locked the cat door so it would swing one direction only. That way the uninjured cat, Rocky, could get in if he was outside. This was a horrendous mistake.
E-spouse was on one of his frequent business trips when I was awakened late at night by a crash from downstairs. My first thought was that we were being robbed. Then I heard more noise, weird noises. But not exactly human noises.
Grabbing my bathrobe and the nearest available weapon, one of the boy’s plastic swords, I flipped on the lights over the stairs and gave a warning shout. Quiet. I descended into the darkness, flipped on the front hall light, and caught sight of glowing eyes in the living room.
Not one of my cats, but a wild cat, a feral cat, who has been messing with my cats for a long time, was perched on the back of my chair. A lamp was on the floor. I hissed at him. He ran for the catdoor. But he couldn’t get out because I’d locked it. Then he disappeared.
I grabbed the broom from the top of the basement stairs and started sweeping it and the sword under the furniture, cussing colorfully while half-expecting to get slashed in the face by filthy claws.
I couldn’t find the cat anywhere. Finally, I unlocked the cat door, hoping Houdini wouldn’t notice, and returned to my bed. After I tightly closed the kids’ bedroom doors.
The wild cat had come into our house before this night. He’d broken a lamp before. He’d broken a vase. He’d scared the bejesus out of my little boy by curling up on his bed with his stuffed animals then hissing when the poor child went to pick up one of them.
I imagine he’d been coming and going for a long time. He had a plan. He came in at night, when we were asleep, including my cats, had a snack, and left. I’d messed with his plan by locking the catdoor.
The next morning I noticed that the floor molding around the front door had been ripped off. Literally. This small cat, in his desperation to escape, had ripped 1/2 inch molding held in with two-inch nails off the wall. He also ripped several sheets of ancient linoleum out from under the doorjamb at the back door. Linoleum that the construction workers hadn’tt bothered to cut out when they redid the floors. Such fear. Such determination.
I’ve decided to leave the catdoor open again at night. Houdini’s foot has healed, though he’ll always have a spot of missing fur. I’ve decided the wild cat can keep his plan. He can snack on our catfood. But if he breaks another lamp, I’m buying a tranq gun.
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yes, EM. they squat. they’re cats, aka … ok, i won’t go there. i’m letting it go… just letting it go. when the texan actually admitted to squatting, i should have known that this country was going to h*** in a handbasket. i’ll take my fight back to my blog now.
btw, your kitty is very cute. as i’ve said, i want more of The Adventures of Rocky and Houdini.
kitty!! We miss them. Rocky is so much more lovey then our two!
You’ve had a wild cat eating your food… interesting.
I have this “Catwoman-esque” image of your hissing at that cat…
Okay - let me get this straight - you try to squash cats, but will go to great lengths to save rodents?
How bizarre. Cool, but bizarre. A wild creature sneaking in and out of your house. I wonder though, after that incident, will it even think of coming back?
“He can snack on our catfood.”
Boy howdy, Anne, you truly are a “tree hugger” type. That is just a lovely thought, given what the cat has done.
I was thinkning the same thing… who lets a foreign cat “snack on our catfood.” I would be figuring out some way of “taking him out.”
Houdini is a fin elooking yellow fellow- I like striped tiger guys.
Say- we had this identical situation with one minor variation: It was a mother raccoon and her four children coming in to snack on cat food. One night I heard commotion and went out to see and my two cats were safely perched on top of the kitchen cupboards watching the fun: A family of five was washing cat kibble in the brand new self-watering water dispenser. I mistakenly tried to break things up and the mom and three little ones flew out the cat door, leaving one crying youngster behind. After many attempts to shoo him out with his mom barking loudly on the outside I finally had to prop the whole door open and she came and collected him. But not before she bopped him a good one upside the head.
We now have too many varmints to have a cat door so it’s up and down, up and down, up and down…
That is a great story, V.
Unfortunately, SC, I was wearing a fuzzy white bathroom, not exactly Catwoman. But I love your imagination.
A very cute white fuzzy bathrobe.
Not a big fan of cats here, especially not foreign ones. I like my friends cats, but singles guys with Cats. That is just weird.
Awww I love orange tabbies!
My former next door neighbor also had a racoon incident with the cat door, but nothing as exciting and fun as babies and a momma. It was just one racoon.
I hate pilling cats. I was a vet tech many, many years ago, and so I can sure as hell pill anything I want to pill. But I still hate it. My guy is usually ok for the first couple of days of the antibiotic, and then he tries to spit it out on days 4 through 7. Sigh.
I live in an apartment. I throw up a wreathe on the door. Oh, and I have a winter scene mat I throw out in front of the door too. The end.