[CAT STUFF] Outdoor-Indoor Cat Blues
My neighborhood has a lot of turnover. It's also not unheard-of to come home and to have to carefully maneuver around police cars. I hardly know most of my neighbors, but I've come to know their PETS -- especially the ones that got left behind when they moved out. For a long time, there were two cats that would wander around, and -- if they had an opportunity -- actually bolt inside the house to meander around. One of them was (according to one neighbor) "Cecil's Cat," a grey tomcat, friendly enough, but with a nasty habit of biting/clawing (while still purring) if you pet him more than once or twice, and of doing the "kitty spritz," so -- no. OUT, CAT! OUT! Cecil was our neighbor. His wife left him, and then he died shortly after, and the cat remained. We knew nothing more than that.
The other cat appeared when new neighbors moved in. We dubbed it "Little Black Kitty." We would often see it in the company of Cecil's Cat, lurking and hiding. At first I thought the cat was following Cecil's Cat, but then I discovered that it was Cecil's Cat following the Little Black Kitty. I thought LBK was a she-cat. Cecil seemed to think so, anyway: One time, I put out food for LBK at the door (when the cat was looking especially scrawny and sad), and normally nice-seeming Cecil came up while LBK was distracted by the food, bit LBK on the back of the neck fiercely (bloodily), and then, in a heartbeat, proceeded to attempt to do tom-cat things to LBK, while LBK yowled and thrashed. I ended up in the tousle, tearing that seemingly cute little grey cat off of LBK, got a bit torn up myself, while LBK bolted off, and if Cecil's Cat was purrsona-non-grata before (for being caught spritzing the back of the chair after sneaking in the front door while I was carrying in groceries, and being the prime suspect for spritzing the car and truck with tom-cat stink), it was most certainly unwelcome now.
LBK would show up at the door, back of the neck bloodied, meow loudly enough to get my attention, I'd open the door, see Cecil's Cat coming up, and I'd let LBK in out of pity. Eventually, Cecil's Cat showed up less often. Now I haven't seen it in quite some time. LBK kept showing up, and either Gwendel or I would let the cat in for a bit when it was raining or especially cold. Once we put out amenities such as a food bowl, or a water dish for our frequent guest, the cat would sit there and meow when the food bowl was low ("I can see a spot of blue plastic bottom-of-the-bowl in the middle of the food!") or ditto (but in front of the water dish) when the water needed changing. When it wanted to go outside, it would go to the door and meow. I got out the old litter box and some cheap kitty litter JUST IN CASE the kitty, during an extended visit, might suddenly need to go, and I might not be responsive quickly enough, and the kitty would actually use the box sometimes. The cat USUALLY didn't get up on furniture ... unless it was a recently-vacated chair. (For a while, it loved to steal Gwendel's chair when she'd get up from her computer.) Last year, it would spend much of the summer inside sleeping, then trot out when I got home from work and spend the evening adventuring. But sometimes it would just disappear for extended periods, and we'd wonder if it was gone for good, and then it was back again.
We didn't really name it. I mean, it was someone else's cat, right? But I thought of calling it "Trip" -- short for "Trip Hazard" -- due to its sometimes preference for "kitty-loafing" right on the threshold of any open doorway or the main traffic area in the quasi-kitchen-dining-room area in the dark. Gwendel's thought of a few names. In practice, it's just been "Kitty-Cat." On rare occasion I've talked to some neighbors (who come and go), and I've gotten the impression that this is just one of several "neighborhood cats" who visits different homes, begging for treats, and exploring if allowed to.
A week or so ago, however, Little Black Kitty had a small scratch on the back of one ear. LBK occasionally shows up with signs of battle (or disturbing marks on the back of the neck, even though Cecil's Cat is nowhere to be found anymore), so I didn't think too much of it ... but then it got worse -- A LOT WORSE -- to the point where I called up a vet clinic and got the old kitty cage (rusty and worn as it is) and took the poor cat in.
LBK was incredibly well-behaved compared to what I expected. Either that, or the poor cat was just too tired and weak to put up resistance. Well, that was my theory, anyway, until I first tried to put an "Elizabethan Collar" (AKA "Cone of Shame") on Little Black Kitty, and ... well ... I've just got a bunch of nice big scratches on my arms now to remind me of that initial fiasco, and that as subdued as LBK was with the cat-cage, that only extended SO FAR.
Oh yeah -- and LBK is a "he" after all. Neutered male. When I found that out, I promptly apologized to the Kitty for the misunderstanding (to the humor or politely feigned humor of the vet doctor and assistant).
LBK has the "less worse" version of Feline Leukemia, according to a test, and shouldn't be let around other animals. LBK got rabies shots, some other shots that I forget what they were for, some flea treatment, a Cone of Shame, blood tests, and other fun, fun things. For the past few days, Gwendel and I have been on Kitty Watch. The poor cat must be given 1 ml of a foul, noxious-smelling (and I can only imagine noxious-TASTING) fluid once every 12 hours, via an oral syringe (not a needle). I have managed to deliver it a couple of times to the cat without Gwendel's assistance, and I can only be sure that MOST of the medicine actually ended up in the cat, but it's more realistically a two-person job.
To my surprise, the kitty-collar hasn't been quite the ordeal to put on the cat; initially, it was something of absolute TERROR, but now the cat seems to regard it as mere nuisance. This does NOT mean I have compliance. The cat still struggles, and sometime's it's a bit shrewd. The poor cat can't really eat while wearing the cone; when I have to deliver the medicine (which is supposed to be followed by food), I apply the medicine, remove the cone, then try to encourage the cat to eat (which doesn't take much). I wait for the cat to finish, and allow it to groom -- but as soon as it starts sneaking off to a hiding spot, or if it lifts its rear right foot to scratch at the wounded area over its ear, then I wrestle it back into the Cone of Shame.
Once, however, the cat was apparently mid-eating -- then abruptly stopped eating and dashed underneath the dining room table/bench arrangement. Poor Kitty forgets that I can MOVE the furniture and have done so before several times for Operation Extract-a-Cat. But it was still a valiant/sneaky effort.
The first night, I kept having flashbacks to when Gwendel's first cat died (quite literally right in front of me, where I was watching him, utterly unable to help him in the least, while Gwendel was out getting medicine for him), and panic attacks that woke me up seemingly every few minutes. Well, that and occasionally a cat in a cone blundering its way over to me and crawling on top of me, but I can't hold that against the kitty. I soldiered my way through a game with friends over (Digital Rampage was GMing, thank goodness, not me), with the cat hiding under the table most of the time. I'd dash to respond anytime the cat meowed (which really wasn't that often -- certainly not compared to when the cat was a mere visitor), and once everyone left I couldn't help but just crash and sleep (while Gwendel heroically took over the Kitty Watch duties to let me sleep).
I've still got a follow-up visit. I dread how much this is going to cost. Also, since the cat can't be let outside, and we have no idea how long the "Cone of Shame" is going to have to stay on (thank goodness the medication is only for 10 days -- so far), we can't very well just set up the house with a "self-waterer" and "self-feeder" if we have to travel for anything. I've been looking into cat-boarding services, with advice from Koogrr. (One thing that stands out: BOOK IN ADVANCE, just like getting a flight or hotel room. These things don't work well last-minute.)
In some ways, the cat is adapting far better to being stuck inside than I expected. The cat still tried to make it for the door when I went out to put out the garbage and go to work this morning, but it hasn't been, say, yowling constantly at the doors, clawing at the carpet, begging to get out at all hours. (At least ... not YET.)
I've been trying to stay within the cat's range as much as possible -- that is, spending more time in the front room, and the "family room" (AKA "gaming room where I'm too lazy to take down the game tables, and now the kitty likes to hide underneath them"), because for some reason the cat seems to be averse now to visiting the computer room (not even to steal Gwendel's chair!) or the master bedroom (which the cat only ever visited before when it was absolutely bone-chilling cold anyway). I sleep on the couch, and occasionally a clumsy cone-collared cat curls up against my feet.
I've been tending to the litter box daily and sweeping up the debris violently knocked out of it by an overly-enthusiastic cat. Allergies ARE getting to me, but I've had worse. I don't know how well I'm going to be able to adapt to this in the long term, but right now I'm just trying to focus on one step at a time. Make it to the next doctor visit. Make it until the 10-day medication period is over with. Make it until the cat's head is better and we can take off that ridiculous cone, and then maybe we can relocate the kitty box to the garage and give the cat free rein to explore or camp out in the garage as desired (unless, of course, the garage door is open to the outside, which is surprisingly rare for a supposed GARAGE).
I suppose if this cat is more-or-less "officially" ours now, a proper name is in order. "LBK" would be tolerable if it made for a cuter acronym. In practice, I've just been calling the creature "Hey, Cat" or "Hey, Kitty," and I doubt I'll ever be able to get it to respond to any name. "Trip" was more of a name invented to tweak and/or amuse Gwendel, but sounds a bit derogatory toward the cat (which is not at all the impression I'd like to communicate).
For now, the kitty seems to be doing all right. For that, I'm grateful.