THIS WAS NOT REALLY MY PLAN: CAT TRAPPING PART II (WHICH COMES AFTER PART I)
Rabbits, lots of them. We want to fix Cholla so she won’t reproduce like rabbits.
My daily horoscope warned me yesterday – and last week – about too many goings with flows. But I didn’t listen. It seems easiest to just go along with whatever I am being told/asked/ordered/encouraged to do and then finagle/customize/circumvent and make an end run toward the right thing (to do) at that crucial moment. To please, and then subvert if necessary, toward a seemingly mutually-advantageous ending, has been my aim. I never wanted to trap the cat but was told I had no choice. So the cat-trapping thing sorta fell into this category and I was told, by the expert person; “Here is the trap. Now it is set. Call when the cat is in it and we will pick up the cat and take it to the vet who will examine it, fix it, and return it all shiny and fresh.” Good plan. The cat would be inconvenienced by a day or so. I agreed to that. But maybe I did not ask enough questions?
Poopie Jones, my neighbor’s cat, who Cholla used to serenade every night when she was FREE.
So, the cat was trapped and then the actual plan of now calling around and finding a vet floated to the surface of reality. On a Friday night. It seems there was no plan. I must have missed something. And it seems that vets don’t often work on Saturdays and are not so keen to see strays. This is not a wild animal. I think she had a home once and ran away from it.
Anyway, I am rolling with this. FREAKING OUT about possibly causing emotional damage to this innocent little cat, but I am on it. I’d not have trapped the cat (I’d have actually sabotaged the trapping) had I known that there were not vets on stand by. Having been ordered to do this by said landlord – whom I manage to rarely see, coincidentally – I wanted to give every appearance of compliance, so the cat could continue to live in the hallway outside my back door, where she seems so happy.
Anyway, now I have a roommate that did not actually choose to be my roommate. I am all a-valium over her habit of hunkering down in her litterbox where she seems to feel safe.
Cop Cake, appropos of nothing.
So I took a long stick and poked one of her familiar blankets through a hole and into the cage, and positioned it so it was in a swirly pattern, thus making a nice bed. She now lays in it, rather than the litterbox. This is good!
Once a day I pull back one of the blankets covering her cage to put fresh (and fancy) food in. She rarely makes a peep and when I lift the blanket I catch her in her living room and only then does she jump back to her position in the litterbox, at which point I run for sardines. Wait… maybe she is working me….!?
Sometimes (once or twice now) she will cry and then when I talk to her she settles down and closes her eyes, so now when I go out I put on a playlist of past radio shows so she can hear my voice till I get back.She is now spending far less time hunkering down in her litterbox. For the past few months she would cry every morning and not stop till I sat and talked to her for a bit. If I put food down and left, she would cry. If I sat down for a chat, she would stop and listen, as her eyes sleepily closed more and more. I have never tried to pet her; she sets the rules of engagement, and she sits closer and closer to me. We were up to 2 feet apart, till the trapping.
I got another huge cage and am making a second living room, bathroom and kitchenette for her so I can push the cages together and she can expand and have a double-wide, with fresh litter. In her new bedroom I made a box with high walls and an opening and lined it with another of her familiar blankets so hopefully she will hide in this rather than in her litter box.
I am still calling around for a vet. But she seems kinda happy now and we are chatting more and she is spending more time on the blanket, closer and closer to me. I have not tried to open the door or pet her. We just talk. I think we are bonding. She is certainly eating well. And still rarely makes a sound.