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I know this site is devoted to success but I could not resist starting a little page devoted to my silly cats. These cats choose to reside with me and I am grateful but sometimes, I wonder, are they evil cats?

Playing Possum (May 06)

Birds on Rampage (May 06)

Yesterday my friend Barbara and I were enjoying a pleasant chat on my front porch when suddenly we were disturbed by several crazy birds who were shrieking and flapping and carrying on something awful. We jumped up and looked over toward all the commotion and there was Dopey with a starling clutched in his month. He looked highly harassed as he ran past us down the stairs and out of sight.  You could hear the birds chirping and screeching at Dopey as they followed him around the house.

Up like a flash, I dashed through the house and got to the back door just in time to close it, preventing Dopey from bringing his present inside. I know I just barely missed a house full of birds because I could hear them on the other side of the door.  They sounded like a mob of outraged sopranos out for blood.

Poor Dopey!  I hated to leave him outside with all those birds birds attacking him but was not about to let him in with his “toy”.  An interesting point to note is the fact that there was a blue jay helping the starlings torment my sweet cat. What ever happened to “birds of a feather”?  I don’t know.

Anyway,  Barbara peeped through the shade and reported seeing Dopey and his captive sitting in the back yard face to face, staring at each other, neither making a move. The bird was still alive and its friends were still attacking and berating Dopey. I decided the best thing to do would be to try to get Dopey, before he got a chance to kill his prize.  I was afraid that when he saw me open the door, he would grab the bird and make a dash inside.  But if I was to save the bird, I had to take that chance...  I should not have worried.  He was so anxious to get away from all that shrieking and carrying-on that he gladly escaped inside the house without his prize.  We looked out the window a little while later and the bird was gone. I told Dopey he was a brave and wonderful hunter but he acted petulant for the rest of the day. Poor Dopey!

Who’s On First? or Playing Possum

Ever since George (top cat) died there has been a competition among the cats in this house as to who the new “Top Cat” will be. The “Top Cat” eats first, sleeps with me, and generally lords it over the others.  Up until this week it seemed clear that Trouble would be top cat. Even though he is still a kitten, he has a bully’s way about him and regularly intimidates the other two into letting him be first.

Trouble

This week things started to change.  Dopey started sleeping with me and Trouble seemed depressed. There were cat fights and “spraying” and finally, tonight, Dopey brought a possum home (right at bed time).

Dopey

We thought it was dead.  I know it is a possum but it was so still and its little red eyes were open and glazed with that “death stare” that you see so often in horror films. So I shooed the cats away and left Daniel to guard the body while I went in search of a proper disposal receptacle. 

“Mom! I think it’s alive!” says Daniel (who was now standing up on the couch).

“O.k. Honey, I’ll get a box.”

“No! Dopey!  Mom! Ahh! Get away! Dopey! Mom! It’s moving!”

As I came back into the room, I caught Dopey and quickly put him outdoors.

“Where is the Possum?” I asked.

“I don’t know. It think it went over there.”  He gestured vaguely in the general direction of “over there”.

Ok.  We are in a house alone with what looks like an oversized rat, two cats, and an endless supply of hiding possibilities.  We had three choices:

1. Let Dopey back in, go to bed and let the cats sort it out
2. Put the cats out and hope that we can sort it out tomorrow or:
3. Find, catch, and release the possum 

1. There was no way we could go to sleep imagining the carnage and bloody carcass parts that would be strewn around the house (or in my bed) by morning. Not to mention the possibility that one of our precious, innocent cats might be injured by that ugly, disgusting, rat-like thing.
2. There was also no way we could go to sleep imagining that creature lurking about the house or dying in some deep dark corner where he would rot and send disease ridden fumes wafting through the house, that would ultimately drive us out.
3. So we had to catch him …or go to a hotel (which I seriously considered after hour 1)

We searched the dining room where Dopey had (very appropriately) deposited the possum. Imagine how horrible it is to move a piece of furniture half hoping, half dreading, that you would find a gross, yucky, wounded, pink-eyed rodent.  It is not fun.  So we had mixed feelings about not being able to find him at first.  But we were tired and we knew we had to find that possum!  We briefly considered letting Dopey back in.  (We knew he would find it). But we worried that he might get it before we could get him. So we decided to watch Trouble instead.

Trouble like most bullies is really a scared-y cat at heart so I thought he might hesitate long enough for us to catch him before he got himself into any serious trouble. And Trouble did not disappoint.  His sudden fascination with the radiator by the bay windows told us where our quarry lay.

Penelope

Our previous experience with the rabbit (which Penelope thoughtfully contributed last summer) had taught us that we needed to block off all escape routes before making our first move.  A frightened animal can move fast and even a sweet little bunny can startle the Be-geezers out of you. So we quickly assembled a sturdy barricade of trunks, boxes, and old furniture around the radiator. Next we assembled our tools; a shoebox, a larger plastic container, two pieces of card board, a yard stick, and broom.

I want to point out that a possum is much scarier then a rabbit but, like a rabbit, can fit its fat self in spaces so small that you would think even a contortionist possum would not be able to squeeze into. Thus we started the long process of trying to get the possum out.  It took patience, ingenuity and finally an 8 1/2 by 11 inch piece of card stock. Once we had prodded, poked, and blocked him into a position where there was only one route of escape, (directly towards me, I might add), we slipped the card stock under him and agitated it to the point where he felt compelled to move the way we wanted. This is scary and takes a long time. I didn’t want the possum to bite me and didn’t want Daniel to get bitten either. Finally we were able to get the possum into the box! We let Dopey in (so all the cats were in) and put the box outside under the bushes tipped on its side. We added a cut up grape as consolation prize for that disgusting creature. (It seemed only fair.) And went to bed.

So that is why Daniel was a little late getting to sleep.  Yuck.