Post by Liou on Jan 21, 2022 9:37:14 GMT -5
October happened, and then we thought we'd take some time. Chill for a while.
Maybe offer to foster some cats in the future. When the time would be right.
We said quite clearly, "we do not want a cat at this time."
The Universe does not understand negative phrases.
And lo, a cat was promptly delivered into the backyard, ready for hire, like Mary Poppins dropping in.
And lo, a cat was promptly delivered into the backyard, ready for hire, like Mary Poppins dropping in.
This is how it went:
we had leftover cat food, quite a lot, some already open. Over the end of October, we had to leave out the uneaten food - not too close to the house -, trusting that the neighbourhood cats would not allow it to be wasted.
Back in August, we had spotted a ginger tabby mama cat hanging out in the backyard, with a ginger kitten mini-me in tow. Yes yes much rolling over and grooming and fuzziness. We had guesstimated the kitten to be no more than 5 months old, from the previous spring.
Autumn again: my mum stepped into the backyard when she was ambushed by a hungry Squeak. The Squeak Required. My mum, like any well-trained catservant, Provided. We still had some leftover food that we hadn't managed to give away or return, after all.
The Squeak was an adult-sized cat, ginger tabby. Oh, good, thought my mum. This must be the mama cat, coming back to hang out in a safe yard now that her parental duties are over. It would be good to have a friendly cat visitor to generally watch over the place.
My mum found several nicknames for the Squeak. I found the superior nickname, Pipsqueak.
We did not heed the famed warnings of "don't name it, you'll get attached!" After all, the Squeak was an outdoor cat. They hung out in the backyard before and after feeding, and came close enough to direct the full power of their squeaking and big golden eyes upon my mother, but otherwise, they were not to be touched.
The Squeak did come closer and closer, though.
And they purred, and they trilled while dashing past us, and they would occasionally headbutt, and they were very playful. Surely it would do no harm to bring out some old cat toys, which they appreciated.
The Squeak played in a most kittenish fashion, as if they had read the Cat's Manual on how to charm humans, and were demonstrating their talents to introduce themselves as eligible for adoption.
One night, I came back to find a brand new, freshly-purchased bag of dry food in the garden room.
"Mother," quoth I, "thou hast doomed us all."
One night, I came back to find a brand new, freshly-purchased bag of dry food in the garden room.
"Mother," quoth I, "thou hast doomed us all."
This cat was so very kittenish and squeaky! And oh, so pitiful when hungry, almost trying to chew olives fallen from the tree as though to show just how very hungry they were!
And eventually my mum spotted that this was definitely not a mama cat, and it must, in fact, be the kitten, well grown-up and gangly with big tiger paws, returned to settle in a safe backyard that they remembered. She planned to purchase dry food for kittens next time. That did not solve the problem, I reminded.
Well, since this big kitten was getting more social and coming closer and allowing some pats, surely we ought to socialise them some more to increase their chances of getting adopted? They were almost one year old, so it was a bit late. But they were already so eager, showing off all the cute Cat Things that they knew how to do! You'd think they were fresh out of Cat College and were eager to find a position relevant to their degree.
(But not this house, okay? We weren't ready.)
It was getting so cold! Surely it would do no harm if my mother built a little cardboard cabin outside our back door for Pipsqueak to spend the night. She likes to build things. A kitty duplex was no trouble at all.
And well, since the kitty was spending the night just outside the back door, and the garden room is nice and separate from the rest of the house, why not make it a kitty playroom for them to pop in and play during the day?
So Pipsqueak discovered the delights of indoors, of having a big cardboard box to play in, a chair to jump on, got introduced to some neighbours and friends, was terrified of most of them except the ones who were already cat-humans, showed off all the things they could do inside the Box, like spinning to catch their tail and attacking toys, and purring like a waterfall.
Pipsqueak was a bit clueless overall. I started a game of scratching the outside of the cardboard box while Pipsqueak was inside it, to make an imaginary beastie to catch. It was so, so realistic, that Pipsqueak became Spooked, and was convinced for over a week that the Box was haunted. I had to lift the Box so that Pipsqueak could paw at the spooky ghosts underneath.
Pipsqueak was sociable, but remained highly Spookable. Pipsqueak would come for headbutts and brushing-past and pats, dart away at the slightest noise or weird movement, and slowly come back, and rinse, and repeat. They had been allowed into the Upstairs -
Me: but Hygiene?!
Mother: but Kitten! -
and it took many days before they dared to actually explore the rooms without darting out.
The local cat rescuing associations we'd called hadn't got back to us, as they had a lot of work, and we didn't push, since Pipsqueak was doing quite well. We had asked left and right for anyone who wanted to adopt a cat, and naturally, the easiest way for people to respond was: "Oh, but you should adopt them!"
Haha. Of course this cat was extremely adoptable. Ginger all over, beautiful tabby pattern, big golden eyes, little pink nose and beans, the trilling, the purring. It would have been so obvious if we had been ready for a new cat! (We were not ready, right?)
The Universe was conspiring.
Eventually, we'd need to get Pipsqueak fixed, regardless of where they would live afterwards. I had no idea if they would ever forgive us after the ordeal, so I didn't want to say anything.
It was easy to pack Pipsqueak into the crate as they trusted us so much, especially around feeding time. Oh, but the trip to the vet's. Pipsqueak trills a lot, so much that we hadn't heard their mewing voice yet. So it was a shock to hear a sonorous "AA-WEH!!" from the box during the 5-minute walk to the vet's.
Okay, it was a bit funny, because it sounds like "Ah Ouais?!" in french, which would mean "Oh Yeah?!" We continue to say this, not to mock Pipsqueak but to sympathise at times of hardship.
Well, Pipsqueak got fixed. We managed to keep them indoors during their recovery time, and then allowed them out. Whether they came back or not, at least that would be one more fixed cat.
It took them a bit longer, but they did come back, still uncomfortable climbing fences while recovering.
By the next evening, they were purring and sprawling out on a bed.
They are still an outdoor cat, but they have discovered the luxuries of Upstairs and beds and dining in the kitchen, and made it a daily ritual. It has only been a few months.
It is not possible to keep Pipsqueak in the Human Rooms at night. We sleep uninterrupted.
But we still manage to keep the cat indoors in the garden room overnight.
So, when bedtime comes, we have a ritual of putting the cat to bed.
For a while, Pipsqueak associated *me* with bedtime, so whenever I came in the evening to get cuddles from the kitty after my work day, they would greet me quickly and dart downstairs. Kitty, please. A proper afternoon nap in the weekend fixed that.
Pipsqueak remained quite Spookable. When the Kitten incident happened and we were visited by a kitten from three houses down who was determined to come into our house, the reason this was so awkward was that *Pipsqueak*, twice the kitten's size, was terrified of it.
Now, Pipsqueak stampedes past us rather than away from us, though, and they trill every time. Like a "watch out, here I come" call, or a "it's just me" call, or "bet you can't catch me".
They love to hide behind the curtains we have to divide the sitting-room, like a kid playing secret agent. The "slide a sheet of paper under a door" game also works very well.
Pipsqueak spends about half the day indoors after their morning and noon outdoor patrol.
They eat like a Hobbit, and though they may have the winter cold and "still growing maybe probably" as excuses, I will keep an eye on that.
We have found them an Official Name. We went through many suggestions, with highlights like marmalade and muffin. But the cat was trilling us the right name all along - "Rroo". I will keep Pipsqueak as their forum name.
Welp. Seems like this has been going on for a while, and it looks like it's continuing? I post?
tl;dr We accidentally a cat.
