Monday, March 21, 2005 Well, I won’t, really. Because I don’t want him to not like me. But I get so frustrated when he attacks one of the other cats. He doesn’t do it often and oddly enough, he only seems to do it when I’m around (but not always, I caught him a couple of times considering rows with Jackie yesterday when I was vacuuming; the only way I knew something was going on was the other cats would run to the window and look out). I caught him earlier back in the catnip. Oliver was in there, Richie was in there, Daniece was in there. Handsome didn’t see me, though, he was rolling in the nip. So, I did something he heard me, turned and started to run out. Potter was by the shop door and Handsome started the posturing, you know what I mean, laid down ears, head kind of down, but twisted, walking sideways, but see, Handsome doesn’t do much in the way of warning growls. He more or less assumes the position and attacks. Poor Potter ran as quickly as he could, but he wasn’t ready, taken by surprise. So, I’m running through the yard and find Potter in the arms of Handsome, a very unwilling participant. Handsome sees me (what, he couldn’t hear me yelling across the yard?) and he drops Potter and runs into the house. My first thing is to find Potter and check him over. I find him next to the shop. He comes to me willingly and I pick him up and see if he’s okay. There’s some spit on his side, probably because Handsome’s face was pretty spitty from rolling and drooling in the catnip. No blood or puncture wounds, so we’re safe there.
Then I go inside and start yelling at Handsome. I made myself big by raising my arms in the air and Handsome ran off. I was so mad. I told him that the sooner he got used to his new situation, the better it would be for all of us, because he wasn’t leaving.
He’s not at all easygoing like Chandler was. Even Little Bit wasn’t as bad as he is. She didn’t go out of her way to attack, she only hisspitted when she felt her space was being invaded. But this guy. This guy has a totally different way about him. And when he’s riled up, you do not put your hand down to him because he’ll lash out at it.
I’m crating him at night and when we’re gone because I obviously don’t trust him to not start something with one of the other cats. I do let him out during the day because I think this will go a long way helping with introductions. But, damn, it’s a lot of work. I actually check the lost cat ads in the paper, hoping that maybe his previous owners are looking for him, but I really don’t think I’ll find anything. He’s been on his own for a while now, they’ve probably given up (if they were even looking for him in the first place). I like leaving the doors open because I know Little Bit really enjoys being outside, but that’s just that much more room for me to keep watch over Handsome. I wish she knew the cat door.
I know it takes time, but I’ve had new cats for almost a year now. Little Bit and her litters last year, Chandler…I really need a break from new cats. And for the life of me, I don’t know why they’re ending up in the backyard. If they’re out front, well, it’s different, they can take off, but in the backyard, it’s like “we dropped down from heaven, God sent us, we live here now”. It’s making me crazy.
At night, in the crate, he pulls at the door. He scratches at the floor, trying to dig out. It makes lots of noise. And I find myself laying in bed, wishing for some sort of sleeping gas that could be released every so often to keep every cat in a state of relaxation. I know he’ll mellow out, I just hope it doesn’t take a long time. I’m just worn out right now.
And the one cat I’d love to have in the house is only here for dinner and breakfast. I don’t see him in the day at all anymore. I miss looking out and seeing him on the bank, I really do. I miss my KittyMeezer. I’m sad that he’s not staying here.
Annie has discovered the bathroom faucet again. Oh, yes, there’ve been the occasional times she remembered, but she remembers it a couple of times a day now. And if I don’t get up, open the shower door and turn on the water, she starts crying. Loudly. Until someone goes in and opens the shower door and turns on the water. At least she’s not doing it during the night when we’re sleeping. (Nope, that’s Handsome’s dig at the door time.)
I talked earlier about the weeds being pulled. The cats were a little nervous about that at first. Hardly any of them went out last week, on the rare occasion I had the doors open. When they found the vegetation missing, the slowly checked everything out. Now that they’re sure everything is okay, they seem to be loving it. More dirt to roll around in. I’ve watched them up on the bank, chasing one another, diving in the dirt and sliding. It looks like they’re have a great time. And they’re certainly sharing the wealth. They’ll waltz in, coated in dust. Then they lay on the furniture, the bed, the table, the counter….
Cats, gotta love ‘em.
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