He went tearing out the front door tonight, when I opened it without paying enough attention, and I was once again reminded that I intended to not get another cat after Tom and Slinky.
The heartbreak when they die is too darned difficult to get through. And, really, chasing them down when they are run out the door or into the basement is more work and emotional stress than it's worth.
Tam and I managed to corral Huck in the neighbor's front yard and he was back inside in minutes, but my heart was in my throat. Every cat I had as a child was eventually run over; Mother was (understandably) adamant about not having a litter box in the house and all cats were indoor/outdoor pets.
I'll change my mind by the morning and think I was being utterly beastly but tonight, I really wonder if it wouldn't be smarter (or at least easier on me) to just take him to the Humane Society.
Sometimes it's just too much. I'm grateful I don't have any children.
BUILDING A 1:1 BALUN
4 years ago
16 comments:
It is stressful when they manage to get outside, but it is worth it. They just want a taste of freedom, and it's hard to blame them for that.
Give Huck a great big hug, and you'll remember why you love him.
I have quite the opposite with our new cat. We adopted(or he adopted us) a new stray about 2 months ago.
I took him in during a moment of weakness on a night when the low was forecast to be 7 degrees.
Now, on those occasions when he annoys me, I will open the front door, urging him to go back to where he came from. He will sit at the threshold and meow a bit, then go to sleep under the kitchen table.
Not Huck; he spends hours in the windows, watching prey.
I don't know, maybe he's just not cut out to be an old maid's indoor cat. Poor little guy, am I making him miserable? Don't think I could live with myself if I took him to the Pound.
It is hard to take the wild out of a cat. But at least Huck has had some experience. I lost a cat I bottle raised because she darted out the door and went after a dog on the other side of the street. She never saw the car that killed her.
So I am out of cats and swearing to never take in another one. Until the next stray rubs my leg and asks politely to be taken in.
Stranger
If ya decide to rid yourself of Huck, well take him. We have his twin, looks just like him. Named "Cosmo". Full of crab walking, attacking invisible gremlins and other acts of terrorism in the house, which to him is his domain.
Delta_Ten AT hotmailDOTcom
Huck will be fine causing you the occasional case of nerves and living indoors.
Our old orange tom barn cat moved in and except for one or two excapes was fine with wrestling with the dog to replace ravaging the mouse population.
What's the old saying, it not how you died, it's how you lived.
Gerry
Roberta: I have 4 indoor cats (a big house, so I don't feel like a crazy cat lady). They are well cared for, get visits to the outdoors on our top deck, and are protected from coyotes.
And I'm allergic to them.
when my boy cat attempted to get out one too many times, i started to take him for walks. maybe give that a try with Huck?
Who ya callin' an old maid?
Certainly not the lovely Roberta, I hope?
Not Huck; he spends hours in the windows, watching prey.
Don't they all?
Having moved into Neue Schloss Drang we note that Ratbane still insists on going out, but does not stay, Sparrowbane acts like he wants out, but does not go, and Princess... Well, Princess has been diagnosed with FIV, and is never, ever, going out again. But she still loves us.
I presume from this that you are considering putting him up for adoption with some little old lady? 'Cuz I'm pretty sure I don't read no blogs by no Old Maids...
Poor little guy, am I making him miserable?
I've seen cats do some pretty good "Puppy Dog Eyes" to get suckers to do their bidding--the kittehs often regret it...
Don't think I could live with myself if I took him to the Pound.
A better household, maybe, the pound, never.
WV: distatfu. A martial art involving showing a lack of appreciation for others' body art...
No, you're not "making him miserable," he's still a youngster and hasn't gotten over the "kitten must get into everything" stage. (A bit more playtime might reduce the energy level a bit.)
The walk idea is interesting. Huck is young enough that he might take to harness training. (They have them at Petsmart.) Many years ago in Broad Ripple you'd see a guy whose grey tiger cat (with leash and collar) would ride on his shoulder. Maybe you could get a bike basket and take Huck for rides on the Monon.
And the "hours in the windows" is standard: Mine all do it. My rescued siamese of a few years back was a faithful window-watcher, but offer him an open front door and he'd give me one of those "are you out of your mind?" looks. When I got him, he'd lived on his own for about 6 months, so I guess his attitude was BTDTGTTS.
(Of course, you could always get ANOTHER young cat who could keep Huck occupied. Rannie might appreciate the peace and quiet.)
Your doing your duty as a responsable pet owner and are not making your cat misrable. What he did was a normal reaction, part of being the type of cat that he is. Don't fret, just roll with the moments of adventure.
Far from miserable, he's just a young male cat and shenanigans are part of the job description, including door-darting.
My mother was similar. It wasn't the litterbox thing- we had those- it was that she just didn't want to put in the effort to stop door-darting and seemed to regard the things that inevitably happened to our cats as acts of God rather than preventable accidents. I lost my childhood kitties to dogs, cars, one case of poisoning I think may have been deliberate, and a few just-plain-vanished.
I left Zydeco with her while I was in college, which is where he got his scar collection. He disappeared for three days during one visit home and the family fallout during my hysterics was... significant.
He does not go out anymore. He is not unhappy, though our discussions on the subject were lively for awhile. Over time his interest has hugely diminished.
To love is to risk loss. This is life.
Then, Andrew, I shall not love. I am no longer interested in the associated risk, which in my opinion has a one hundred percent chance of coming true.
That was my firm resolve when my ex cheated on me (for some time) and then left abruptly. It has not changed.
Pets are a bit less painful a risk but I am still working to not be too close to Huck the cat. He's a good cat (as cats go), period.
I want the world at arm's length, at a minimum.
Our previous indoor/outdoor cat died a peaceful death due to kidney failure. We worried about him, having raised him in the middle of the Minneapolis urban area, but he figured out on his own that cars were big moving things that didn't care if he was there. We tried to put a collar on him...exactly once, so that didn't work either.
Our current indoor/outdoor is a red tabby clone of Huck, but about 10 years older and 10 pounds heavier. He'll sprawl in the middle of the alley, pretending to own the neighborhood. But let a dog be seen, or a car roll through, and he's a streak of flattened-out orange lightning heading for the security of his fenced yard. The fence is not to keep him in, its purpose is to keep OUT the potential maulers of loose dogs (of which he's terrified).
If we ever find that he doesn't come back from a night's prowl, or that a car has whacked him on a street we'll be sorrowing. But it's the way he grew up, and confining him to the house at this point would be punishment indeed. For him, the risk of death-by-car or being cornered by a killer dog is worth the reward of being outside to snooze, hunt, and just generally be a nuisance to everyone.
We love him, but if he had to permanently stay inside he'd drive us completely insane. We've made the decision that if that's what he wants, he'll get it, even if it eventually kills him.
Odds are that he'll die like his predecessor, though.
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