In Which there is Cat Drama
May. 9th, 2010 11:09 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
serindeI have had cause to wonder whether Ranger might not do better with a companion; he has spent his entire life being half of a duo, and his behavior has gotten a little odd and proprietary (co-dependent?) over the last year, and he seemed to tolerate visiting kittens not too badly, and ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nedlnthred has had problems finding home for poor Domino, a most sweet-natured cat; so I decided to take him on a trial basis and see how it worked out.
I picked him up on Friday morning and decanted him, whereupon he went directly under the couch. Ranger was, of course, hissingly displeased per usual, but not making much of a fuss. So, when I left Friday night, Domino was quietly hiding under the futon, and Ranger was watching with disapproval from the bed. Domino would occasionally make a tiny "mew mew mew" and poke his head out, or explore a little, at which point Ranger would hiss (giving himself a hairball) and he'd duck back under. But they were pretty much staying each in their own room.
Last night, at length I returned (after much delay thanks to the winds dropping trees on train tracks and other joys). Ranger was complete master of the field, sitting on the ironing board, following me around the place as I got myself settled, looking as if nothing in the world was the least unusual. I couldn't find Domino anywhere. Naturally I checked the windows first, but the screens were intact. So I spent 45 minutes pulling the apartment to bits, finding every crevice and corner, as Ranger followed me around with an unusually smug air. Finally, I was out of hiding places, the possible and the impossible, and I reinspected the windows; whereupon I found that the screen out to the fire escape had been bent just enough for a cat to melt through, but back-to-front so it wasn't visible, and the screen had pulled loose from the frame in just such a way that it was not immediately apparent either.
"Oh fuuuuuck", said I, and crawled onto the fire escape. I started calling him, and lo! I hear an answering, very unhappy, loud mew mew mew mew mew mew mew from below. He's in the Cigar Aficionados Club's patio next door. I continue to call him, and he crawls through the fence so now he's in Downstairs Guy's backyard. I'm trying to encourage him to climb back up the wisteria, which is, I *assume*, how he got down, but he just sits there and mews louder SAVE MEEEEEEE. I sigh deeply and go downstairs to knock on Downstairs Guy's door; no answer, and there's no light coming through. I knock on the landlady's door across (she has the other patio), no answer. I go back upstairs, call him some more, but he is just not figuring out this "up" thing; so I write a note, go back down to tape it to Downstairs Guy's door, when now I hear voices in the landlady's apartment. I knock again and beg her pardon and she (kind cat lover that she is) lets me into her backyard.
Ensues now five minutes of me calling Domino, him mewing back, until he finally gets the idea of "oh um I can easily climb over this fence can't I". He comes up to me and then is suddenly OMG WAIT WHAT IF YOU'RE GONNA EAT ME and it takes another minute or two to coax him into arm's reach so I can pick him up.
Let me note that he hates to be picked up. By anyone. He's a snuggly enough cat, loves scritches, wants to curl up, but hates to be picked up. I was in hopes his trauma would trump this. HA HA HA HA HA HA HA
So I have a double armful of yowling panicky flailing cat who I negotiate out the landlady's door and upstairs, where as soon as I drop him he peels off--I'm not sure if he's heading for the window so I cut him off there, and he goes back under the futon. I secure the window. I sit down with a brain full of ulaeulaeulaeulaeulae. Ranger is looking entirely disgusted and huffy. I think he had been feeling pretty good about "ha ha, the idiot new kid took himself out of the picture" and was displeased that the he had been saved from his folly.
I retire around midnight, with Ranger most possessively planted on my head, whereupon I hear continual plaintive cries of "mew mew mew mew mew mew" as Domino searches every corner of the apartment for the magical Door Into East Orange. At one point he comes into the bedroom and I talk to him and he jumps up on the bed, but Ranger rises in wrath from my pillow and hisses at him, and he flees & stands not upon the order of his going. This repeats for about three hours.
This morning, Domino is again silent and unmoving under the futon, and Ranger is alternating between the bed (huffy), on the ironing board (watchful), and pacing in front of the futon hissing (bring it, bitch). Except the part where he, Ranger, ate some dental floss and barfed it up. I am continually informed that they will work it out. I am trying to be zen about it.
nedlnthred has had problems finding home for poor Domino, a most sweet-natured cat; so I decided to take him on a trial basis and see how it worked out.I picked him up on Friday morning and decanted him, whereupon he went directly under the couch. Ranger was, of course, hissingly displeased per usual, but not making much of a fuss. So, when I left Friday night, Domino was quietly hiding under the futon, and Ranger was watching with disapproval from the bed. Domino would occasionally make a tiny "mew mew mew" and poke his head out, or explore a little, at which point Ranger would hiss (giving himself a hairball) and he'd duck back under. But they were pretty much staying each in their own room.
Last night, at length I returned (after much delay thanks to the winds dropping trees on train tracks and other joys). Ranger was complete master of the field, sitting on the ironing board, following me around the place as I got myself settled, looking as if nothing in the world was the least unusual. I couldn't find Domino anywhere. Naturally I checked the windows first, but the screens were intact. So I spent 45 minutes pulling the apartment to bits, finding every crevice and corner, as Ranger followed me around with an unusually smug air. Finally, I was out of hiding places, the possible and the impossible, and I reinspected the windows; whereupon I found that the screen out to the fire escape had been bent just enough for a cat to melt through, but back-to-front so it wasn't visible, and the screen had pulled loose from the frame in just such a way that it was not immediately apparent either.
"Oh fuuuuuck", said I, and crawled onto the fire escape. I started calling him, and lo! I hear an answering, very unhappy, loud mew mew mew mew mew mew mew from below. He's in the Cigar Aficionados Club's patio next door. I continue to call him, and he crawls through the fence so now he's in Downstairs Guy's backyard. I'm trying to encourage him to climb back up the wisteria, which is, I *assume*, how he got down, but he just sits there and mews louder SAVE MEEEEEEE. I sigh deeply and go downstairs to knock on Downstairs Guy's door; no answer, and there's no light coming through. I knock on the landlady's door across (she has the other patio), no answer. I go back upstairs, call him some more, but he is just not figuring out this "up" thing; so I write a note, go back down to tape it to Downstairs Guy's door, when now I hear voices in the landlady's apartment. I knock again and beg her pardon and she (kind cat lover that she is) lets me into her backyard.
Ensues now five minutes of me calling Domino, him mewing back, until he finally gets the idea of "oh um I can easily climb over this fence can't I". He comes up to me and then is suddenly OMG WAIT WHAT IF YOU'RE GONNA EAT ME and it takes another minute or two to coax him into arm's reach so I can pick him up.
Let me note that he hates to be picked up. By anyone. He's a snuggly enough cat, loves scritches, wants to curl up, but hates to be picked up. I was in hopes his trauma would trump this. HA HA HA HA HA HA HA
So I have a double armful of yowling panicky flailing cat who I negotiate out the landlady's door and upstairs, where as soon as I drop him he peels off--I'm not sure if he's heading for the window so I cut him off there, and he goes back under the futon. I secure the window. I sit down with a brain full of ulaeulaeulaeulaeulae. Ranger is looking entirely disgusted and huffy. I think he had been feeling pretty good about "ha ha, the idiot new kid took himself out of the picture" and was displeased that the he had been saved from his folly.
I retire around midnight, with Ranger most possessively planted on my head, whereupon I hear continual plaintive cries of "mew mew mew mew mew mew" as Domino searches every corner of the apartment for the magical Door Into East Orange. At one point he comes into the bedroom and I talk to him and he jumps up on the bed, but Ranger rises in wrath from my pillow and hisses at him, and he flees & stands not upon the order of his going. This repeats for about three hours.
This morning, Domino is again silent and unmoving under the futon, and Ranger is alternating between the bed (huffy), on the ironing board (watchful), and pacing in front of the futon hissing (bring it, bitch). Except the part where he, Ranger, ate some dental floss and barfed it up. I am continually informed that they will work it out. I am trying to be zen about it.
