Cat House

Jack and Rooney do not share in my passion for cats. Well technically, they are passionate, just not in a good way. Certainly not in the way I would like for them to view the outdoor cats whose trust I am valiantly trying to gain. Their idea of dealing with cats is to leave the indoor ones alone while launching a scorched earth policy with regard to any who show up outside the house.

Now, I have made great progress with Shadow, the cross -eyed Siamese. He and I are at the conversing stage. He is quite chatty and answers me when I ask a question. He still keeps his distance - about 8 feet must separate us for him to be comfortable.

Shadow, sleeping on the neighbor's ledge.

This morning, there was a different cat outside waiting for breakfast. A beautiful orange and white one that reminded me of a Creamsicle.  Anyway, it got to breakfast first - a deeply disturbing thing as far as Shadow was concerned. He stood on the edge of the driveway watching the whole thing transpire; loudly voicing his concern.

He was greatly relieved when I brought out another dish of food, and put it closer to his safety zone. You see, he was afraid to come closer to the porch because both Jack and Rooney had scared his eyes straight by launching themselves at the window as he passed by. He was afraid to come closer despite my assurances they could not get him.

When I tried to explain to J and R that I am trying to get the cats to feel comfortable coming around, they looked at me as much to say, "Look, we put up with the cats you brought inside - all bets are off with whatever is out there." I get the canine (and feline) equivalent of an eye roll a lot.

Speaking of the felines, Boo! and Dash have been enamored with "their room" since I gave it a thorough cleaning. The reason for the cleaning had to do with a stolen loaf of bread.

The other day, I heard a strange rustling sound and went to investigate. That was when I saw Miss Boo! with a loaf of bread in her mouth; hauling ass through the house and into the front bedroom. She dove under the bed with it. I dropped down to take a peek and was shocked at what I saw. Apparently, they have been stashing all sorts of things under there!

I found a nail file, a dead lizard, almost every cat toy I've ever purchased, a blue, rubber dog bone and a cat scratcher festooned with an old, dried up hairball. I just crouched there, blinking. The decision was made to clean the room.

I tossed all of the cubes and tunnels and beds into the adjacent bathroom and filled a basket with as many of their tiny toys I could reach. They reminded me of my kids when they were little and I did a purge of their rooms. They kept inspecting everything as I moved it to another spot so I could vacuum. I moved furniture around and found even more "treasures."

When I was finished, the room looked much better. I tossed some old items and left all of the toys in a basket. I washed all of their bedding. I was happy.

The next morning, I went in to see how things were. To my shock, someone had removed every single toy from the basket and left them lying on the floor - as if in protest to my neatness. Now we're talking about thirty assorted items - balls, crinkly things, furry toys, etc. I guess they like it better this way. 

The purple basket had been filled with toys.
Somebody removed each one and left them on the floor.

Rooney was happy to have her long lost bone back,
she just had to show her dad,
and tried to get him to love it as much as she does.