We take our cat with us whenever we go away for the weekend. My girlfriend likes to have him around. That makes sense. It’s probably the reason we got him in the first place.
He, on the other hand, is not a fan of how we make this transaction happen. He does not, in any way, shape or form, likes to be captured and boxed up. And that can often make it a battle between he and I. I always do the wrangling because, as I told her,
“Let’s have him only hate one of us.”
I’ve chased him down hallways, had to squeeze myself between a washing machine and a wall, spent countless hours looking for him (and being a feral that little bastard can hide. One time he did it so well we had to cancel the trip because we couldn’t find him), reached under every bed available, you name it and I’ve had to corral him there.
One morning he sensed something was up and was running around the entire house until he decided on the place he figured I couldn’t get him. That place was the top of the refrigerator. Now until you’ve seen a cat jump on a counter then leap onto the top of a refrigerator you really can’t say,
“Holy shit that was amazing.”
As much respect I had for his mad skills I still had the issue of getting him. There was another issue that was pointed out to me.
“Don’t let him knock over the expensive cookie jar.”
Up until that moment I didn’t know there was such a thing as an ‘expensive cookie jar’. So I had to figure out how to get the cat down and also not be blamed because it’s totally my fault if the cat bumps into and breaks the ‘expensive cookie jar’.
I thought about my predicament for a moment before coming up with a solution.
“Get down from there.” I barked.
And damn if it didn’t work. Surprised the hell out of me, let me tell you. I can’t get humans to do things I say.
And the battle continues. Sometimes I try to sneak up on him but that doesn’t often work. By now he’s leery of me on a full time basis. So basically it’s me running after him trying to corner him under a table or behind something.
Last week it was time to get him. He’d not been too concerned with our movements so I could keep an eye on him. Slowly I started to move toward him and he looked up, blinked into consciousness and jumped down from the couch. He ran through the living room into the dining room into the kitchen with me following.
Every time I pass a door I close it. I’m creating a maze to attempt to limit his locations. I walk into the kitchen, he’s standing in the middle of the floor, he looks at me then runs toward me just out of my reach heading under the dining room table.
I look through the door and see him. He sees me through the thickets of chair legs. I take a step back. I begin to form my plan of action. Yes, I spend my days trying to outwit a cat. Sometimes this entire adventure is like throwing snowballs at the sun.
I know, because it’s where he last saw me, he’ll be paying close attention to the kitchen door. So, stepping as quietly as possible, I go the other way. I sneak through the hall way and peek around, he’s still silently staring at the kitchen door. This is good for me.
I begin to creep through the living room, trying to stay out of his peripheral vision and I don’t even know if cats have peripheral vision (I just looked it up by typing in do cats have. . .and the first thing that came up on the search list was ‘periods’. Ah, why? But I ventured forth and found out that cats do indeed have peripheral There, now I don’t feel so bad about sneaking around).
He’s still staring straight at the kitchen door waiting for the moment when I step out to pounce on him. I slowly, quietly approach him hoping when I bend down to grab him my knees don’t creak. I reach toward him, he’s still awaiting my frontal attack as I grab him from behind with two hands.
At this exact moment three things occurred:
- he jumped, startled
- he made a sound like a 1920’s movie gangster, “Gaah, coppers, you’ll never take me alive.”
- he shit
So, yes, I literally scared the shit out of my cat.