A Cat Tale (Groan)
There is a small orange cat with a pointed face in our neighbourhood who we call the Gremlin. He LOVES our cat Hunter, loves to hang out on the porch with Hunter (cat-hanging-out: sitting on opposite sides of the porch not looking at each other) but he doesn't like to be approached or touched by humans. He tries to come in our house when we let Hunter in, or when we leave. He does this to our downstairs neighbour Tonya too, who has an orange cat named Shudu. (Shudu's face is not pointed but his nose is a little funny-looking since he was in a car accident-- Tonya says he's had reconstructive surgery.)
At first I was annoyed that Gremlin was so anti-social (he will growl and maybe scratch if you try to touch him) but then I realized that he is Hunter's friend and not mine. So for the last year or so that he's been around, we just ignore him and try to keep him from slipping in the door (because he promptly goes under the furniture and won't come out), and it seems he and Hunter are happy as ever. (Our glassed-in porch is the primo cat-hang-out in the neighbourhood-- all the kitties come to pay their respects to the Godfather.)
One day, our next-door-neighbour Justin (who came up with Gremlin's name) came to the door and asked for our help in getting G to the vet-- the cat was bleeding from his head and skulking about. So Paul and Justin took G to the vet, and asked the vet to phone us if they couldn't trace the owner-- the way G eats voraciously from Hunter or Shudu's bowl, the way he's always around, hanging out on our porch for the entire day, had led us to wonder if G was abandoned. He has a collar, but of course never would let anyone get close enough to him to see his tag.
The next day, G was back in the neighbourhood with stitches on his head. Obviously, the owners DO live in the neighbourhood. So G is just a little difficult. Or maybe he's mistreated, and that's why he doesn't spend much time at his own home?
Last night Paul and I were skipping Rob Budde's reading (it was impossible to get a cab and grumpiness was quickly mounting). We'd gone to get Land of the Dead to watch instead. We heard a meowing at the door, and double-checked with each other that we hadn't let Hunter out (Hunter is a big cold-weather-baby like me-- he meows to go out, takes a look at the snow beyond the porch, and runs back inside-- kind of what I've been doing lately). I told Paul it was probably Shudu and to let him in. (We have a standing arrangement with Tonya to care for each other's cats, and Shudu and Hunter like to visit each other-- Hunter loves redheads.) But it wasn't Shudu, it was Gremlin. Well, it was -100 million degrees outside, and I thought we better let him in to warm up.
He perched under the futon by the heating vent. He wandered a bit and Hunter oversaw the sharing of his food. I love watching cats interact-- Hunter was totally being the host-- sort of following G around, or maybe escorting him around the house-- he was hyper-aware of G, where G was, what G was doing.
Well, G sat under the futon after cleaning out Hunter's food bowl. I opened the door a couple of times to see if he'd go out, but he didn't.
Cats are nocturnal.
All night long we were awoken by purring meowing sounds, pitter-pattering, etc. I got up a couple of times but didn't see G after this noise-- opened the door, but no one wanted to go out. Hunter looked at me with his gormless expression from the middle of the living-room floor, but I couldn't see G. Once I went into the office and turned on the light and caught the two red-handed under the desk. Playing I suppose, though they stopped whatever cat-thing they were doing as soon as I saw them. (Is the cat under the desk dead or alive? You won't know until you turn on the light...)
Did G want to leave in the morning? Of course not! And now he's just used Hunter's litter-box. Oh man. He hasn't been growling, though, and he's let me pet him briefly a few times.
Now, whether he's mistreated or not, his owners are probably really worried about him. It was deadly cold last night-- still is, for a kitty. I was hoping if he had to use the litter-box he'd want to leave, but no such luck. I haven't refilled Hunter's food- dish, in the hopes that G will want to leave to get some food at home. So far, no good (he just polished off Hunter's catnip, so maybe that's tiding him over.)
Well, this story doesn't have an ending yet, so I will leave it there for now...
At first I was annoyed that Gremlin was so anti-social (he will growl and maybe scratch if you try to touch him) but then I realized that he is Hunter's friend and not mine. So for the last year or so that he's been around, we just ignore him and try to keep him from slipping in the door (because he promptly goes under the furniture and won't come out), and it seems he and Hunter are happy as ever. (Our glassed-in porch is the primo cat-hang-out in the neighbourhood-- all the kitties come to pay their respects to the Godfather.)
One day, our next-door-neighbour Justin (who came up with Gremlin's name) came to the door and asked for our help in getting G to the vet-- the cat was bleeding from his head and skulking about. So Paul and Justin took G to the vet, and asked the vet to phone us if they couldn't trace the owner-- the way G eats voraciously from Hunter or Shudu's bowl, the way he's always around, hanging out on our porch for the entire day, had led us to wonder if G was abandoned. He has a collar, but of course never would let anyone get close enough to him to see his tag.
The next day, G was back in the neighbourhood with stitches on his head. Obviously, the owners DO live in the neighbourhood. So G is just a little difficult. Or maybe he's mistreated, and that's why he doesn't spend much time at his own home?
Last night Paul and I were skipping Rob Budde's reading (it was impossible to get a cab and grumpiness was quickly mounting). We'd gone to get Land of the Dead to watch instead. We heard a meowing at the door, and double-checked with each other that we hadn't let Hunter out (Hunter is a big cold-weather-baby like me-- he meows to go out, takes a look at the snow beyond the porch, and runs back inside-- kind of what I've been doing lately). I told Paul it was probably Shudu and to let him in. (We have a standing arrangement with Tonya to care for each other's cats, and Shudu and Hunter like to visit each other-- Hunter loves redheads.) But it wasn't Shudu, it was Gremlin. Well, it was -100 million degrees outside, and I thought we better let him in to warm up.
He perched under the futon by the heating vent. He wandered a bit and Hunter oversaw the sharing of his food. I love watching cats interact-- Hunter was totally being the host-- sort of following G around, or maybe escorting him around the house-- he was hyper-aware of G, where G was, what G was doing.
Well, G sat under the futon after cleaning out Hunter's food bowl. I opened the door a couple of times to see if he'd go out, but he didn't.
Cats are nocturnal.
All night long we were awoken by purring meowing sounds, pitter-pattering, etc. I got up a couple of times but didn't see G after this noise-- opened the door, but no one wanted to go out. Hunter looked at me with his gormless expression from the middle of the living-room floor, but I couldn't see G. Once I went into the office and turned on the light and caught the two red-handed under the desk. Playing I suppose, though they stopped whatever cat-thing they were doing as soon as I saw them. (Is the cat under the desk dead or alive? You won't know until you turn on the light...)
Did G want to leave in the morning? Of course not! And now he's just used Hunter's litter-box. Oh man. He hasn't been growling, though, and he's let me pet him briefly a few times.
Now, whether he's mistreated or not, his owners are probably really worried about him. It was deadly cold last night-- still is, for a kitty. I was hoping if he had to use the litter-box he'd want to leave, but no such luck. I haven't refilled Hunter's food- dish, in the hopes that G will want to leave to get some food at home. So far, no good (he just polished off Hunter's catnip, so maybe that's tiding him over.)
Well, this story doesn't have an ending yet, so I will leave it there for now...
posted by Jill at 12:23 PM
1 Comments:
And now Shudu has joined the party...
G is coming up to me and letting me pet him, but then when I move towards the door to open it, he gets spooked and starts "huffing"-- I think that's what grizzlies do. The huffing is followed (in my experience with the G) with growling and then scratching. So I'm hoping Shudu will convince G that it is fun to play in the snow, although Shudu seems more interested in the now-stinky litterbox.
Silly kitties.
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