Tuesday, December 27, 2005
What happens when the catsitters get into the eggnog
So I'd been out of town for a few days and I come home early this evening and greet my cats. Rocky seems kinda grouchy. Which is odd, because he's usually glad to see me when I return from a trip. But he's a cat, who knows what he's thinking.
I unload my car. I take my bags upstairs and put them on the floor. Cat no. 2, TC, has accompanied me. He alertly makes for the bed and sticks his head underneath it. His sizable butt is poking out from under the bed. He seems to be straining to get under there.
I wonder what he's looking at. "What is it, boy? Fire?" I ask.
I get down on my hands and knees and look under the bed and damned if there isn't a strange cat under there. A white-footed gray tabby.
"Who the hell are you?" I said. "How the hell did you get in here?" The cat says nothing.
I call S. "Did you know there was an extra cat in my house?"
Long story short, my neighbor came over yesterday when S and T were here feeding the cats. She asks them if one of my cats got out. S and T say, no, we don't think so, but they look around the house and they can't find Rocky (he's hiding. Cats do that). So they think he must have gotten out of the house somehow.
The neighbor says, well, this cat has been hanging around my porch - is this Rocky? And S and T say, Does Rocky have white feet? We can't remember. We can't find him, so that must be him.
S and T let the stranger in, and he spent last night and all day today IN MY HOUSE. Until I came home and found him crouching under my bed.
When I called S she explained the whole thing and apologized profusely. I can't believe she got this cat confused with Rocky. S said she and T weren't entirely sure about the stranger, but they let him in anyway. Then, she says, they went home and inspected their own cat, wondering if they could identify him if they ever had to pick him up at a shelter.
Luckily, the stranger is a nice cat and I was able to coax him out with some canned food, and then pick him up and carry him outside. I felt kinda guilty about putting him out, but geez. I don't need or want any more cats (side note: I just got a 3d, named Beavis, but I'm trying to find a good home for him. He's adorable, honest. Want a cat?)
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So I'd been out of town for a few days and I come home early this evening and greet my cats. Rocky seems kinda grouchy. Which is odd, because he's usually glad to see me when I return from a trip. But he's a cat, who knows what he's thinking.
I unload my car. I take my bags upstairs and put them on the floor. Cat no. 2, TC, has accompanied me. He alertly makes for the bed and sticks his head underneath it. His sizable butt is poking out from under the bed. He seems to be straining to get under there.
I wonder what he's looking at. "What is it, boy? Fire?" I ask.
I get down on my hands and knees and look under the bed and damned if there isn't a strange cat under there. A white-footed gray tabby.
"Who the hell are you?" I said. "How the hell did you get in here?" The cat says nothing.
I call S. "Did you know there was an extra cat in my house?"
Long story short, my neighbor came over yesterday when S and T were here feeding the cats. She asks them if one of my cats got out. S and T say, no, we don't think so, but they look around the house and they can't find Rocky (he's hiding. Cats do that). So they think he must have gotten out of the house somehow.
The neighbor says, well, this cat has been hanging around my porch - is this Rocky? And S and T say, Does Rocky have white feet? We can't remember. We can't find him, so that must be him.
S and T let the stranger in, and he spent last night and all day today IN MY HOUSE. Until I came home and found him crouching under my bed.
When I called S she explained the whole thing and apologized profusely. I can't believe she got this cat confused with Rocky. S said she and T weren't entirely sure about the stranger, but they let him in anyway. Then, she says, they went home and inspected their own cat, wondering if they could identify him if they ever had to pick him up at a shelter.
Luckily, the stranger is a nice cat and I was able to coax him out with some canned food, and then pick him up and carry him outside. I felt kinda guilty about putting him out, but geez. I don't need or want any more cats (side note: I just got a 3d, named Beavis, but I'm trying to find a good home for him. He's adorable, honest. Want a cat?)
