About 6 or so weeks ago, we adopted a kitten, Sasha, after our old lady Babette died. It took a while for him to come out of hiding because:
1. We locked him in Toots’s bedroom with all his accoutrement to acclimate to his new surroundings without having to deal with the Terrorizing Terrier.
2. We took a while to settle on keeping the outer garage pet door closed and just let Lucy out the back door when she needs to go, other than her walks, rather than blow $120 or more dollars on a magnetic door and collar for Lucy.
3. Toots and Captain Comic terrorized him with their love and curiosity. I’m just glad that didn’t kill him.
4. After I moved Sasha’s box and food to the garage beyond the inner pet door, he stayed out there in the storage stuff (we have no basement, living as we do, on a Coastal Plain) and we couldn’t find him, but his food disappeared and his box had regular evidence of use. I maintain, he became invisible for about a week or so. Cat’s have magical powers.
5. Lucy is still chasing him when he appears periodically anywhere in the house besides the bedrooms. That dog lives up to her breeding, even if she is a mix, she is all terrier. She chases anything smaller than her and some things that aren’t, Toots for instance.
There’s a cat in here somewhere, I can smell him!
6. So are Toots and Captain Comic. And loving him with a death grip that he weirdly relaxes into.
Anyway, he is starting to show his true playful kitten personality, and it turns out he is quite an active and clever cat, besides a stunningly gorgeous black ball of fluff with a tail bigger than himself. He has come up with some tricks.
I will wear a pair of jeans for a couple of days, if sticky peanut butter, etc hands haven’t left their mark. I laid the day old pair with items in pockets on my bed with my outfit the other morning, and Sasha deftly, and just for kicks picked my pockets. He removed my lip balm first, and took it for a tour of the bedroom floor. Then he hopped back up and picked out the spare pair of ear plugs I usually keep on me for Captain Comic, when he needs to dampen the noise around him. I took it from him, telling him, no, he can’t eat plastic, while he was in the process of disemboweling the package to get to its guts. He immediately proceeded to remove, one at a time, two dimes and a quarter from my pocket.
I just wanted to get dressed, people. I did not think I was training a trick cat.
Last night, he came up with a new trick.
He hopped off the bed and closed the bedroom door, then he mewed and clawed under it like he wanted to get out of the room. I dragged my sleepy disgruntled self out of bed and opened the door for him, and tried to keep Lucy away from him, because, since the cat was on the move, the terrier had to be on the chase. Most nights they stay pretty well on the bed in different quadrants separated by two sets of human legs.
I managed to settle Lucy down back on Honey’s side of the bed. She’s really supposed to be in her crate right next to the bed, moved up from downstairs a couple of years ago because of the all night pleading barking and cage rattling she goes through periodically. We’re both suckers.
I got back under the covers, and almost had a chance to rewarm my pillow, when, sound of door being pushed closed, mews and clawing at door and rug. I got up, and here we go again. This time, I picked up Sasha and placed him outside the bedroom door, held Lucy back with my foot, so that Sasha might descend the stairs in peace, and he swished his pretty self back into the bedroom and behind the door. Settled dog, settled back into bed, wonder what that kooky cat was up to. Sound of door closing, mews, and scratching of wood and carpet.
By then, I wanted to kill him, I really need my sleep. But I would never kill a cat, especially one as clever and pretty as he.
I think we went through a few more rounds of what was clearly a game he was enjoying before I was able to get back to any semblance of sleep.
Clearly I have adopted a Trickster cat.
I needed that much more mayhem to bring me even more joy to my life.