And then there was one...

Omigosh, the last few weeks have been so hectic I havenít posted anything :-( Just before the war began we adopted two kitties (see entry below) and the first week was an odd mixture of happiness, chaos, depression, no sleep, and frazzled nerves. Sparky decided that neither cat liked him (he believed it was because they had been ìraised by lesbiansî), and he got very depressed and defensive because every time he walked in a room they ran away from him. He didnít have a clue as to how his defensiveness could possibly freak out a kitten, especially having recently gone through the loss of our dog who just doted on him. During the day both cats would sleep with me, and they did tend to avoid him when I was awake. So after a week of him being depressed and me being almost psychotically happy but also very nervous (Iíve never had a kitten let alone two really hyper & curious ones at once) we decided it would be best to give the big black male back to his foster mother and just have one. Also weíll be getting another dog sometime this year. The female cat, Phoebe, a Burmese mix, bonded with me instantly from first meeting, and while the male was sweet enough, he was rather distant and uninterested in what anyone else in the house was up to so we didnít think it would be particularly traumatic for either cat since it had only been a week and both had come from foster homes with multiple kitties.

Sooo... to make a long harrowing story as short as possible, we called the foster mother and arranged to meet her to give the other cat back. Stupidly we also decided that Sparky would be the one to put him back in his carrier while I kept Phoebe in another room so as not to upset her. Well, it came time to leave and I took Phoebe in the bedroom and Sparky went and picked up Salem and put him back in his carrier, he immediately leaped back out and began tearing through the house. And the race was on...

My husband temporarily lost his mind and decided to chase the poor cat through the house several times until he got him cornered in one of the bedrooms, tried to grab him again at which point the cat bit the living crap out of his hand. Did I mention that this is an 11 pound cat that hasnít been declawed? So Sparkyís screaming, the cat is hissing, and still he keeps after the poor thing. It had become a matter of principle now, I think. It all happened so fast I didnít have time to intervene until heíd been bit and scratched several more times. Iíve gotta say, if heíd been chasing me through the house and swearing Iíd probably have bit him also. But together we got the cat back in his carrier and while Sparky was standing over the sink trying to stop the bleeding I gave him a Vicodin and a Xanax and drove to Stafford to return the cat to itís foster mother. The cardboard carrier was covered in blood, so I explained to the poor lady what had happened. She called later in the evening to see how Sparky was doing and when I asked her how the cat was, she said ìOh, heís fine, heís sitting in my lap purringî. So maybe his theory about the cats preferring women has some validity, I dunno. Iím just glad the cat wasnít traumatized by the whole thing.

When I got back, I was afraid my poor little baby Phoebe had been traumatized by all the racket, but she came right out and sniffed around for awhile and seemed quite pleased when she realized Salem was gone. From what Iíve read, Burmese cats tend to be more oriented towards people than other cats and sheís quite happy to be the queen of the house. Feeling guilty over the whole bizarre incident, I ran around the house dusting and lint rollering everything, then washed all the bed linens including the comforter. I was so tired by that evening, when it finally came time to go to bed I have no memory of what happened after that. From the evidence I reconstructed, apparently I took all my bedtime meds (including my Ambien which usually takes about an hour to kick in on me) and then ran water in the shower and got in long enough to get my hair wet, dried off and lay down on top of the sheets with wet hair and passed out from exhaustion & Ambien. I remember waking up after the sun had risen, and realizing a) I was naked, b) I was laying on the foot of the bed, and c) my hair had air dried, which is never a good thing for me. Phoebe was laying right next to me when I woke up. I got up and walked into the bathroom and found the lamp still on, and the bathmat and tub were all wet.

So, that was the saga of the cats. I donít want any more drama for awhile. Phoebe, Sparky and I are happily co-existing. Sheís gotten used to him, even though sheís still a spazz and runs through the house like crazy at times. Heís decided she does like him, sheís just nuts, itís nothing personal. After much debate instead of declawing her to protect his precious furniture from even the chance of something happening to it I put little pink nail caps on her instead and theyíve been working quite well. Theyíre also very cute (pics to come!). Sheís very gentle about using her claws and she really doesnít need them, but they make him feel more secure.

Until last night I havenít slept worth a damn for about the last three weeks. Iíve been dreaming of cats almost every night it seems, I did the same thing when my dogs were puppies. My first dog, Wolf, half German Sheperd and half Lab, was the most active, overly intelligent puppy youíve ever seen. He jumped out of a huge TV box the first couple of nights we had him home (at like 6 weeks!) and even with a baby gate he was a challenge to keep in. I worried for years about my dogs, but especially Wolf. The few times his mate Tala got out of the yard, she walked around to the front door and scratched to be let in. Wolf on the other hand would dash right out into the middle of a busy street. The worst time was when I lived on a main street in a small central Texas town and was trying to walk my motorcycle in through the chain-link gate and he zipped right past me into traffic. So there I am, in a leather jacket and full face helmet, trying to catch a dog in morning traffic while the idiots driving past arenít even slowing down. I remember actually being so pissed I kicked a couple of the cars as they whizzed by.

Sparky says I have my Wolfie back now in the form of Phoebe and I really think heís right. Iím obsessed with her safety, happiness and health. Sheís my constant companion, she follows me from room to room, chirping at me constantly (which I love, BTW), and sheís a very sweet but very odd cat. Sheíll wake up out of a dead sleep and run into the kitchen to beg for ice when she hears anyone in the freezer, she jump into my bathtub when the waterís running and tries to attack it... Her online profile on Petfinder said ìand most of all she likes to playî and that she does :-)

Posted by Morticia at April 09, 2003 02:27 AM | TrackBack