I was minding my own business when I heard a sudden outburst of pitiful meows from my woodshed. I texted Mrs. Curmudgeon: “There’s another damn stray. It’s in my woodshed. The fucker had better not take a dump on the wood I worked so hard to stack!”
I like cats in theory but I’ve had enough of them in practice. We’ve already got a barn cat. It spent years pissing me off. As it aged it slowed down on the destruction of stuff (aside from scratching the hell out of our door jam) so we established a détente. I’m nice to it and give it food and water and I even built a nice warm place where it can sleep (outside!). I make sure it has a heat lamp in winter. In return the cat does nothing whatsoever and is still annoying when it can be. It still gets itself locked in my garage if I’m not careful whenever I open the door. On the other hand it hasn’t torn up my tractor seat or my motorcycle saddles… lately.
The cat has lived for what seems like forever. It’s original name was “Lucy” but I call it by every synonym for “evil” or “asshole”. Regardless, I respect all living things, especially in their old age. I treat it well and patiently look forward to the march of time providing me with a cat free life. I’d have a different opinion if the little jerk ever caught a mouse.
You’d think an outdoor cat would be hassle free but the cat bowl attracts all sorts of mayhem. Squirrels, chipmunks, songbirds, skunks, raccoons, you name it. I’d rather avoid the drama but I promised the old barn cat I’d take care of her. Also, I have a soft spot in my heart for chickadees. They’ve got blanket amnesty to steal all the cat food they want. The jays are a bit more aggressive but I can live with it. The rest annoy the hell out of me, including the inevitable arrival of another damn cat.
That stray showed up several years ago. I named it “Intruder Cat”. It’s not a full time resident. It disappears for months and then shows up from time to time. At first it would fight with my old barn cat and bully the thing. I didn’t like that. I’d chase the stray away. Over time the two stopped fighting. Now they mostly get along. Mrs. Curmudgeon “upgraded” his name to “Frenemy”. Frenemy never catches mice either.
I want a third cat like I want higher taxes. Mrs. Curmudgeon is always a few steps ahead of me. She texted “Get a picture.”
It came out of hiding soon enough. A kitten that looks a lot like Frenemy. I’m guessing Frenemy went off and got lucky somewhere. I presume Frenemy abandoned the kittens and wherever the mom-cat lives. He probably wandered off just like any Tomcat would. Much like the lyrics of an old time blues song.
One kitten must have followed him and wound up lost at our place. It climbed up an old ladder I’d leaned against my truck and started fixin’ to make a mess in my truck bed.
There were trash bags in there. The kitten was hungry and very interested. I intervened before it could spread trash everywhere. I sighed…
“It’s a kitten. Probably Frenemy’s genes. I’m making a dump run before it trashes my truck bed.” The kitten scampered away and I rolled out for the county dump.
Mrs. Curmudgeon wasn’t letting me off the hook. “In its defense you left a ladder for it.”
Back home, with the truck properly emptied, I caught another glimpse and snapped a photo. I sent it to Mrs. Curmudgeon. “This is the offender. If it messes up my stuff I’m voting it off the island.”
“He looks hungry. I’ll pick up kitten food on the way home.”
“Wait? What!?!”
So, that happened.
Two of our three inside house cats are from the neighborhood. One kitten instantly adopted us and refused to leave even when prompted. The other was kidnapped by my wife who watched a litter of 4 cut as hell kittens go to 3 … 2 … and she took the last because she wanted to save at least one. All three are affectionate but cause different mayhem. I change cat litter once a week (two litter boxes) and my official name is Can Opener, thank you very much !
We have an outdoor dog but no outdoor cats. Plenty of them around.
Years ago, my brother had a cat. It had kittens in the garage, and then helped an old tomcat gorge on their helpless meal. For a few hours, she looked like she was pregnant again.
Cats…
Two days after my beloved furball Ruby Begonia of 16 years died and left me absolutely bereft, a stranger cat waltzed up to my door, sat down, and gave me that look: “Well, why am I waiting? Let me in, I live here, dumbass”. OMFG. I let her in. She came in, sat down, looked around, and said “Eff you, let me out.” Cats can be such jerks.
when we moved here there where 4 feral cats that hung around the house.
I told the wife that she could put out some food and they hang around and maybe kill off any mice. she hates mice and drives m nuts about it. ANYWAY. the cats held up their part- no mice at all. well a few dead ones on the porch or driveway I had to get rid of. but they did knock up the 2 female cats ( steady food supply) and we end up with 14 of them ! so she found a shelter that fixed them at 25 a pop. a lot better and cheaper that our vet (250 a pop). so, trapped them all in live traps and got them all fixed. lost about 6 of them to other critters and cars. to be fair about it, they have kept the house and trucks critter free for the last 8 years now. yup. no mice or birds
squirrels or anything else they can catch and kill. they are murder on 4 feet.
and YES. she has named them all. there are even 1 I like as he a very nice cat.
at first my neighbors thought I was nuts to feed and keep them around. now they ask if the cats can come over and clean up the mice and critter problems they have .
so , the problem now around here is the damn racoons coming to feed on the cat food. so the live bait trap is used again but with a trip to the woodshed and a 22.
after it “filled” anyway, dave in pa.
Last March, my little buddy passed away at 19, after a last couple of years with several medical issues. I woke up to him passed away in my arms.
It took three or four months to get to where I could even bear the thought of another cat but Dear Little Wife wanted a friend and we adopted a little girl just after the 4th of July. She has one habit that I can’t stand but really can’t break her of: she’s a biter. You pet her, she gets happy and bites.
Your nicknames got this comment going. I call her Twatwaffle or TW. Sometimes “Miss TW” if I’m feeling kind. She calls me “Can Opener.”
Be extra careful. with biters. Several years ago, one of our kittens ran by me and playfullly nipped my right calf. Developed into a staph infection that took hospital wound care MONTHS to correct, the last steps pressurized oxygen therapy to heal completely. All told – a bit over $4000 in out of pocket costs that my insurance was not happy to pay out.
You get bit, go to sinks and clean the hell out of the wound. Not worth the cost ignoring it like I did.
How can a bitty little kit do that damage ?
My daughter has a cat she named Princess. I call her Princess Death Machine. When she grew big enough mice started dying. We were all happy about that, BUT she also liked to catch mice and bring them inside to play with. I found this out at 3am one morning when odd noises coming from the master bathroom woke me. When I went into the bathroom she promptly picked up the mouse and ran past me. Crazy cat.