Catching A Cat
Oh, No... I've Already Got Two Of 'Em!
Woke up last night to some plaintive yowling outside my window. It's a bit cold out for cats to be doing the nasty, I thought, so I pulled on some clothes and went out to see what was going on.
Way down on the far end of the front porch was a multicolored kittycat, hunched up between the trellis and the shrubbery, just yowling fit to break your heart. I expected it to dash off when I squatted down next to the door, but it came right up and started chattering at me. The critter had a huge head, I thought. Seemed to be a full grown cat. No collar or tags, and though it seemed a bit skinny, the fur was glossy and in good condition. The cat had a stumpy tail, but it was either congenital or long-healed, not a recent injury.
It let me pet it, but I didn't want to scare it off by turning it upside down to determine gender. I suppose I coulda just reached around and felt, but I'm an old-fashioned guy and thought I probably ought to buy it dinner first.
I did feel quite a few fleas running under the fur, so bringing it inside was out of the question. I've finally got my kitties flea-free, and I wasn't going to import any vermin or kitty diseases. I decided to go get a can of cat food and while the cat was eating, go dig out the cat carrier from the garage. A cat this friendly, someone's gonna want it, and the local SPCA's just down the road from my bus stop.
Of course, by the time I'd excavated the carrier from the garage, El Gato Stumpo was long gone. Hmpph. Eat & run. I probably got suckered by a band of Irish Traveller cats. One begs for food in a piteous manner, the rest spray my driveway with used motor oil and bill me $1200 for "asphalt resurfacing". Little scammers...
If my visitor comes back, I'll try again. Heck, I once caught a litter of 4 week old kittens and a momma cat who were living in a rusted-out '51 Plymouth with an old-fashioned box-trap. You know, the one with the stick propping it up and the long string to yank the stick away? Got my friend Flygirl a houseful of cats that way.
Heh. Haven't thought about that in a while. Got 'em all, except for one of the kittens. Finally got that one late the next night, and called Flygirl to come pick it up. She had the cat carrier, so the only place I had to store the pissed-off ball of teeth & claws was an old Igloo water cooler. I popped the top, dumped the hissing little scratch machine inside, and went inside to watch TV.
When Flygirl got there, we discovered that there was about 1/4 inch of water in the cooler, and now not only was the little hiss-monster captured, its paws, legs and little bottom were soaked through. Boy, that little guy was angry! It just sat there down in the bottom of the cooler and cursed up a blue streak at us! Hiss! Hiss! Hiss!
Flygirl, of course, had to name it Alger!
Woke up last night to some plaintive yowling outside my window. It's a bit cold out for cats to be doing the nasty, I thought, so I pulled on some clothes and went out to see what was going on.
Way down on the far end of the front porch was a multicolored kittycat, hunched up between the trellis and the shrubbery, just yowling fit to break your heart. I expected it to dash off when I squatted down next to the door, but it came right up and started chattering at me. The critter had a huge head, I thought. Seemed to be a full grown cat. No collar or tags, and though it seemed a bit skinny, the fur was glossy and in good condition. The cat had a stumpy tail, but it was either congenital or long-healed, not a recent injury.
It let me pet it, but I didn't want to scare it off by turning it upside down to determine gender. I suppose I coulda just reached around and felt, but I'm an old-fashioned guy and thought I probably ought to buy it dinner first.
I did feel quite a few fleas running under the fur, so bringing it inside was out of the question. I've finally got my kitties flea-free, and I wasn't going to import any vermin or kitty diseases. I decided to go get a can of cat food and while the cat was eating, go dig out the cat carrier from the garage. A cat this friendly, someone's gonna want it, and the local SPCA's just down the road from my bus stop.
Of course, by the time I'd excavated the carrier from the garage, El Gato Stumpo was long gone. Hmpph. Eat & run. I probably got suckered by a band of Irish Traveller cats. One begs for food in a piteous manner, the rest spray my driveway with used motor oil and bill me $1200 for "asphalt resurfacing". Little scammers...
If my visitor comes back, I'll try again. Heck, I once caught a litter of 4 week old kittens and a momma cat who were living in a rusted-out '51 Plymouth with an old-fashioned box-trap. You know, the one with the stick propping it up and the long string to yank the stick away? Got my friend Flygirl a houseful of cats that way.
Heh. Haven't thought about that in a while. Got 'em all, except for one of the kittens. Finally got that one late the next night, and called Flygirl to come pick it up. She had the cat carrier, so the only place I had to store the pissed-off ball of teeth & claws was an old Igloo water cooler. I popped the top, dumped the hissing little scratch machine inside, and went inside to watch TV.
When Flygirl got there, we discovered that there was about 1/4 inch of water in the cooler, and now not only was the little hiss-monster captured, its paws, legs and little bottom were soaked through. Boy, that little guy was angry! It just sat there down in the bottom of the cooler and cursed up a blue streak at us! Hiss! Hiss! Hiss!
Flygirl, of course, had to name it Alger!
posted by El Capitan | 7:08 PM
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