House guests

We’re cat sitting for Jane’s two cats while she is in Florida for a few weeks. Skippy is friendly and sociable, but has to be watched because he chews on wires. Rocky is the quintessential fraidy-cat.  Even Jane hardly ever sees him.

Jane drove up Thursday afternoon before to deliver the kennel, food, and other cat supplies. We got the kennel set up and tried to figure out what to do about cat beds. We ended up with one bed on top of another, thinking that the extra insulation would be good on the cold tile floor.

There was some question about rounding Rocky up when it was time to come to my house. When I was done at work Friday, I went to Jane’s to pick the cats up. When I arrived, Rocky was nowhere to be seen. When Jane spotted him upstairs earlier, she shut the door to the basement. Experience suggested that once he was downstairs, he could never be found. He was doing a darned good job hiding upstairs. We checked under and behind all the furniture. No Rocky. I looked under one of the reclining chairs in the living room one more time. I pulled out the foot and saw that the fabric beneath hung down suspiciously. I reached under and determined that it was filled with something of considerable mass. I tried extracting the cat from the front but only managed to get grease spots on both sleeves of my good yellow oxford. I knew I should have brought my play clothes. We folded the foot up to the chair again and tipped the chair forward. From there, it was possible to grab Rocky by the nape of the neck and extract him.

Skippy was an easy grab. We put the carriers in my car, and off I went. I put both cats in the kennel overnight to give them some time to get used to their new surroundings. Rocky claimed the bed, which made it obvious that there was no room for Skip. I took the top bed out. Both of the boys cowered in the corner behind the remaining bed.

Skippy (all gray) and Rocky (gray and white) cowering in the corner of the kennel behind the cat bed

I put the second bed in next to the first bed. Not having anywhere else to go, they both lay on the larger bed. 

The boys share the large cat bed

As they grew a little more comfortable, Rocky took the smaller bed, and Skippy stayed on the big bed. I put a towel over Rocky because he likes to hide. Since then, I have only seen him out this morning when I first got up. He took one look at me, and crawled under the towel. I am much too scary for him.

Skippy on his bed; Rocky under the towel

On Saturday morning, as a precaution, I closed the doors to the closets, store room, kitchen, and bedroom before opening the kennel to put in fresh food. I was particularly concerned that neither of the cats got into the store room. Della had peed back there once, and the presence of cat urine is a big sign to other cats that says, “Public Rest Room.” When it happened, I cleaned the area with every cat pee treatment known to man. To this day, when temperature and humidity conditions are just right (or just wrong), I can still smell it. It is a good bet that a cat can smell it any time.

Skippy was more than ready to be free. As soon as I opened the kennel he was out. And he took off to the one place I hadn’t thought of—under the stairs. Oh well, I thought, he’ll come out eventually. In my next thought, I solved a mystery from long ago.

When we first moved into the basement with Della, there was a period of time when I smelled cat pee at the bottom of the stairs. It couldn’t be, I told myself. The bottom of the stairs was outside the basement door. Della had never been there. I now realized that the pee had not been in front of the stairs, but underneath them. I also had the sinking feeling that it would behoove me to get Skippy out before he had a chance to mark his territory.

The space under the stairs is filled with remnants of the house construction plus a table saw. I rolled out the table saw and discovered that my path was blocked by a shelf about two feet off the floor.  I moved the paint cans that were under the shelf and crawled past the assorted lumber and rolls of leftover linoleum. Skippy was as far back as he could be. As I approached, he tried to crawl behind the drywall, but didn’t get far.  He turned around to face me again. Flashlight in one hand, I grabbed his front feet with the other and began inching my way backward, dragging him through the dust and cobwebs.

He went back in the kennel for a time out. I went to the bedroom to put my clothes in the laundry basket. Newly attired, I did what I could to blockade the area under the stairs. I let Skippy out again, and he proceeded to dust behind the dressers. Still, he didn’t get under the stairs. Eager though he was for attention, he would not hop up on my lap, even though I had his favorite red blankie spread over my legs. I sat on the floor, and he circled around me, purring and rubbing his head and back on my outstretched hand.

When I got tired of keeping track of his whereabouts, I put him in the kennel again. He was NOT pleased. Interestingly, he did the same thing many of us do when we are angry and frustrated. He picked a fight with his roommate. Growls and hisses ensued. After a brief boxing match, they settled down again.

He ran out again this morning as soon as I opened the kennel. He disappeared while I was making my tea. I was distressed to see him reappear on top of the table saw. He had climbed over my barricades. I gave the problem to Terry suggested that perhaps something could be done with the netting that we use to keep the birds from bashing into the window during nesting season. He collected the materials and in a few minutes had it installed. We’ll see how that goes.

The net under the stairs

We had a breakthrough this morning. Skippy hopped up on both our laps. He didn’t stay long, but I think that will change. He could be out of the cage longer if he would just settle down where we could see him. It’s hard to explain things to a cat. The first days are the hardest. We will get into a routine before long. I hope.