So, I’m a softhearted fool that feeds the local cat population because why not? It’s not their fault someone set their great-whatevers outside without any kind of spay/neuter program in mind first. And I’ve slowly gained the trust of quite a few of the colony, especially three in particular: Zee (an orange kitten), Patches (a calico), and Smokey (grey tabby).
I also set out a box for when it’s cold, a makeshift shelter of some sort. (Told you I was softhearted.) Warm blanket inside, thin blanket around the outside. Not the best, but in late winter/early spring weather, it’s a good spot to be in when the blustery winds kick up. Still on the lookout for a solid wooden box that I can put on bricks for a little rise about puddling rains.
Posted pic is the first incarnation of the spring box. The pink blanket is now the thing on on the outside, keeping some wind out. Thicker blanket provided from a Goodwill shopping trip.
So what was in my house? Guess. See if you can figure it out by the end of the post.
Let’s roll back the story a couple hours. When I returned home from my nephew’s party last night, the cats were all ready to eat. When they were done, they went exploring my house. It’s something I let them do do whenever the weather’s accommodating by keeping the kitchen door wide open. On the weekends, they’ll all visit the house as I’m typing on my machine to make words appear. Well, this time I was curious about a particular one going in my house. She frequently visits and leaves quickly, but still a major sniffer of all things mine.
I shut the door on her, though. Not to be mean, wasn’t going to keep–just curious to see her reaction after building trust for the past 4 months. And keeping to expectations, she freaked out. I tried to get her out multiple doors among the falling cookware and miscalculated jumps.
Eventually, she ran outside. And I went back to talking to my neighbor (another sucker for the local feline tree). A couple more cats came and went by the time I closed the door for the night around 9pm. No big deal. And I was exhausted after a long workday and roughly 5 hours sleep. Skyped with my fiance for awhile and then fell asleep around 3am.
Jump to 7am when I hear a cat calling through a closed door. Confused, groggy, and alarmed, I open the door, checking the living room and seeing nothing. Same about the bathroom. My kitchen shows the culprit, however. Sleeping on my clothes, the cat was freaking out about being locked in the house for 10 hours–not that I blame her. That’s a long time to be caged for a free-range feline.
This time, I know the routine. I open both the kitchen and front doors, swinging them wide, while grabbing some string cheese (not just a treat for kids!) as I meander back into the living room to find said cat. She’s made herself tiny under a small piece of paper and in my ornament box. Tree still up because I’m not really planning on taking the little artificial tree down until I move or my fiance returns for the next holiday season.
However, cat? Not budging. I try enticing with string cheese but not having it. After a good five minutes, she figures out the doors are open and bolts out the kitchen door. The screen door makes a loud thump. And then another one of the trio is ready for her morning meal.
That was a long 20 minutes, y’all. I’m flipping tired, the cat’s been an unexpected visitor and now hates me, and all I want to do is sleep. And I thought the birds constantly trying to peck through my roof every morning was exhausting.
March 9, 2015: you’re on notice .Please be unlike March 8 and let me get some sleep. Also, please to be not scaring the poor cat to to point of disappearing since somehow, I think I have a cat.
Nothing like being randomly claimed by a semi-feral cat, right?
Oh, and the adventurer in this great game of “wake the journalist up way too early”? Smokey. (As seen on Instagram.)