Blue-Footed Musings

Living in an unfinished house, we’ve had to make some arrangements that aren’t ideal. For example, we currently have our three cats locked up in one room. Believe me, I’ve strained my brain to come up with a better solution, but this is the way it has to be for now. The downstairs, in its current state, is dangerous for curious kitties, and there is no way to prevent them from going downstairs except to lock them in a room. Even locked in a “safe” room, one of them has already found, consumed and puked up something that looked suspiciously like wallboard. I know how much damage they could do to themselves and the house if they were allowed to free-roam. Locking them up is the lesser of two evils.

Don’t feel sorry for them. They have all the comforts—food, water, litter boxes, toys, scratching posts, cushions, blankets, and numerous stacks of boxes on which to play. I visit them several times each day. I do everything I can for them.

But they don’t think that’s enough. They cry and howl and scratch at the door. The scratching really irritates me. Two of those cats with their evil scratching ways once destroyed the carpeting in my condo. We tried using a cat repellent spray, but it didn’t work, and that torn carpeting was a huge problem when I tried to sell the condo. In fact, what they did to that carpeting may have cost us thousands of dollars. So when I hear them scratching, not only is it annoying, not only does it wake me up at night, not only is it destructive, but it also brings up bad memories.

Today they scratched and scratched. I yelled at them. Then I yelled some more. Then I shrieked. I shrieked so loud I worried, isolated as we are, that someone might have heard me. They still did not stop. So I went to the room and sprayed with water anything that moved. Poor Peeps took a blast right in the face. Mojo got one from the side. And the ringleader, Zoulie? She was hiding, but I waited, and when she came out I soaked her.  Then there was silence, blessed silence, for hours. Aaaaaah. Relief.

I wonder, will a crying baby bother me as much as crying cats do? It probably will. But you know what the difference is between a baby and a cat? A baby grows up and somewhere along the way it stops crying. Cats never grow up. Their bad behavior goes on and on. I love them, it’s true, but they constantly try my patience.

Thank goodness for spray bottles.