Just in time for the first snowfall of the year and the first really cold temperatures, someone up there decided that the dog to cat ratio in my house is out of balance. Not to mention this whole equilibrium between males and females in the pet world could’t possibly be right. Their Royal Pickypantses have decided that We do not like Friskies canned food right now. We are even being picky about Fancy Feast. So the other morning I said “Fine, if you don’t like it, the cat next door will.” Cat next door is actually more backyard cat, as she likes to hide in my garage and hunt at my feeders. She technically belongs next door, and I know from speaking to them they found a dead kitten earlier this year and assumed she’d lost any she had. I put out the can, and left for my dance lesson. When I got back a few hours later, I saw her sneaking out along the far wall of the garage, and went to the back of my car to watch where she went.
Then I heard the meow behind me.
Apparently in yard cat’s world, one half-grown adolescent male kitten is a fair trade for 2/3 a can of Friskies mixed grill. He took only a little coaxing for petting, then once I picked him up he stuck his nose in my elbow and purred really loud. Now, this was my Friday (which is not everyone else’s Friday, because my workplace is 24/7/365 so we all have different weeks) and I was leaving in the morning for my parents’ to pick up the dogs, who’d been visiting while I was at Teslacon. So I did what any reasonable person would do: turned my mud room into a hastily-arranged kitty quarantine center and put him in. He was great until the dogs arrived, and then the surprise of having three boisterous canines come barging through the door sent him scaling up my cross-country ski bag. He had, however, also somehow killed a vole for me. How it got in the mud room, I’m not sure, but scratch one rodent. With more time, I set up the smaller but warmer hall bathroom as quarantine #2 until I could get him into the vet, where he was found to be perfectly healthy and about six months old. Apparently this explains the scratching noises in the garage the last few months. I thought it was more birds.
So far, Maggie is finding him interesting, especially as when he’s not surprised by them, he’s rather placid about dogs. Tucker and Puff like cats who ignore them. Sundae is still more upset about PUPPY!!!! than another cat, PC seems grudgingly accepting. Only Marcus is cranky, and he limits it to growling and marveling at how much food a cat who only weighs six pounds can put away. Gunpowder’s amazed at the magic food bowls that always seem to get refilled.
Why Gunpowder? It was November 5th.