Of cats and vampires.
Feb. 12th, 2007 09:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Long time no post, huh?
We appear to now have 4.5 cats.
How does one obtain 0.5 of a cat?
See, one of the things that got me to make my mind up about having Djinny neutered was the fact that three or four tom cats began to mooch around the garden. Typical mad feral toms, for the most part.
Except for one, a slender little white lad with amber eyes. Beautiful cat. He'd been saying hello to Slay at the bus stop since he was first let out the house - far too young, IMHO - as a small kitten. I wondered why he'd suddenly begun hanging around the garden until he walked up the path away from me with his tail up and I thought ah, right. Not had the attentions of the vet yet, obviously.
So he kept asking to come in and I kept saying hah, not on your nellie, mate. Then Djinny got spayed, and I assumed he'd stop visiting.
Wrong.
I told him he still couldn't come in. And, to be fair, he didn't.
Then, very late one night, I saw a white paw come round the edge of the catflap, and assumed it was Webster having one of his Moments (he occasionally forgets how to use the flap, and hits it for an hour or two until he remembers). So I said, well, come on then.
Because if you speak to him Webster is so pleased he remembers things. Yes, I know it's odd. He's an odd cat.
"Thank you very much," said the little white cat, and strolled through.
No, wait...! I said, halfway through rolling a cigarette and thus hands too full to wave at the intruder. Who was now mooching the lounge, tail up, eyeing the place like an estate agent.
I marched into the lounge, assumed a Scary Stance, pointed at the kitchen and said firmly:
"Out!"
(I didn't want to frighten him in case he wet himself. If you've ever smelt tomcat pee you'd understand.)
And he did, very politely, giving me a small meow as he went. Out the catflap, stayed in the garden for a few days. All was well.
Then - week before last I think it was - I opened my eyes because there was an unusual meow coming from under the window. There before me in his sparkly white coat was the tomcat, sitting and looking around with interest. He noticed me looking, and meowed a polite good morning.
Djinny, I might add, was on the bed showing him all the salient points of the abode: "This is where we all sleep at night, and on top of the monitor? Good and warm."
Webster was also on the bed, staring: "Oh. You live here now, do you? OK, whatever," and went back to washing his backside.
"You," I said, "are not allowed in here."
White tomcat rose and began a dignified stalk out; then there was a snarl from the stairs and I thought, crap. There's a fight. So I sprang from my bed (well. Sort of. More of a crippled crawl) and was met by a very worried little white cat, who explained that he was trying to leave, really, but the demon on the stairs wouldn't let him.
Xev had apparently let him up the stairs, but was refusing to let him down them.
That problem sorted with another stern word, off he went. Problem, I thought, solved.
Until he began hanging around the back door again, looking sad.
arrys_girlie sugested calling him Spike, because of the look and also because, like the aforementioned vampire, I had invited him in. Inadvertently or not, it still counted, and now he felt able to come and go at will.
However, he stuck to the garden until last week when it snowed. He showed up on the doorstep, soaked through, and shivering.
WHAT THE HELL WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO?!
I said:
"You can come in until you're dry and warmed up, then you gotta go."
He came in and sat on a towel by the radiator until he was dry and warm, and then he went. Honest. Swear to god.
Fairly impresed by this, I went back to hoping he'd had enough of us and gone to panhandle from somebody else. No such luck.
Tonight I'm curled up on the sofa with Slay watching NCIS. (Anybody got a link to some Gibbs/Abby porn? They so need to fuck.)
And in strolls Spike, pad pad pad, settles down before the disbeliving eyes of two cats and two humans. He tucks his paws under him on the rug, glances at the television, glances at us.
"What we watching, then?"
Djinny flings herself on the floor next to him and rolls over, purring. Webster, asleep on the suitcase, squints along the room and then goes back to sleep. Just Spike, he says.
Xev, on the back of the sofa, just stares at him. You can she that she has no idea what to do about this young man who acts as though he owns the place.
"Excuse me?" I say, "Out, Spike."
He all but sighs, and plods off toward the kitchen. Now, we go back to watching the TV, but he hangs a crafty left instead of a right and takes up residence in Slay's bass drum. (His drumkit, currently occupying the dining room, is a recording kit and thus has a hole in the front of it.)
The only reason we discovered this is that Djinny was so pleased to have him here she was on the other side of the drum, banging on it with her paws.
I am not making this up.
So we stood there and said, Oi. Spike? Out.
He peered round the edge of the drum, went back in it.
Two kicks of the pedal later he's left burn marks on the lino, that's how fast he vacated the premises.
So what next?
Has he had enough?
Will he return?
One thing is for sure, I'm ringing the surgery tomorrow to see if they have his real owner's telephone number. Because if they do I'm ringing the guy and asking him what he's going to do about his damn cat.
Knowing my luck, he'll tell me to keep him.
In which case, those balls are coming off before he can so much as blink. Bet on it.
Anyway, I've told Djinny that she can have boyfriends, she just isn't allowed to bring them home. *Sigh*
Thing is, Slay and I have both developed a soft spot for the little guy. He's very sweet, extremely polite, and my cats don't seem to mind him. Although Webster did spend a good ten minutes staring at the bass drum, vibrating with keen awareness, after Spike had left. He's a very special boy, is Webster.
Cats and vampires. The trick is definitely not to invite them in.
We appear to now have 4.5 cats.
How does one obtain 0.5 of a cat?
See, one of the things that got me to make my mind up about having Djinny neutered was the fact that three or four tom cats began to mooch around the garden. Typical mad feral toms, for the most part.
Except for one, a slender little white lad with amber eyes. Beautiful cat. He'd been saying hello to Slay at the bus stop since he was first let out the house - far too young, IMHO - as a small kitten. I wondered why he'd suddenly begun hanging around the garden until he walked up the path away from me with his tail up and I thought ah, right. Not had the attentions of the vet yet, obviously.
So he kept asking to come in and I kept saying hah, not on your nellie, mate. Then Djinny got spayed, and I assumed he'd stop visiting.
Wrong.
I told him he still couldn't come in. And, to be fair, he didn't.
Then, very late one night, I saw a white paw come round the edge of the catflap, and assumed it was Webster having one of his Moments (he occasionally forgets how to use the flap, and hits it for an hour or two until he remembers). So I said, well, come on then.
Because if you speak to him Webster is so pleased he remembers things. Yes, I know it's odd. He's an odd cat.
"Thank you very much," said the little white cat, and strolled through.
No, wait...! I said, halfway through rolling a cigarette and thus hands too full to wave at the intruder. Who was now mooching the lounge, tail up, eyeing the place like an estate agent.
I marched into the lounge, assumed a Scary Stance, pointed at the kitchen and said firmly:
"Out!"
(I didn't want to frighten him in case he wet himself. If you've ever smelt tomcat pee you'd understand.)
And he did, very politely, giving me a small meow as he went. Out the catflap, stayed in the garden for a few days. All was well.
Then - week before last I think it was - I opened my eyes because there was an unusual meow coming from under the window. There before me in his sparkly white coat was the tomcat, sitting and looking around with interest. He noticed me looking, and meowed a polite good morning.
Djinny, I might add, was on the bed showing him all the salient points of the abode: "This is where we all sleep at night, and on top of the monitor? Good and warm."
Webster was also on the bed, staring: "Oh. You live here now, do you? OK, whatever," and went back to washing his backside.
"You," I said, "are not allowed in here."
White tomcat rose and began a dignified stalk out; then there was a snarl from the stairs and I thought, crap. There's a fight. So I sprang from my bed (well. Sort of. More of a crippled crawl) and was met by a very worried little white cat, who explained that he was trying to leave, really, but the demon on the stairs wouldn't let him.
Xev had apparently let him up the stairs, but was refusing to let him down them.
That problem sorted with another stern word, off he went. Problem, I thought, solved.
Until he began hanging around the back door again, looking sad.
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
However, he stuck to the garden until last week when it snowed. He showed up on the doorstep, soaked through, and shivering.
WHAT THE HELL WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO?!
I said:
"You can come in until you're dry and warmed up, then you gotta go."
He came in and sat on a towel by the radiator until he was dry and warm, and then he went. Honest. Swear to god.
Fairly impresed by this, I went back to hoping he'd had enough of us and gone to panhandle from somebody else. No such luck.
Tonight I'm curled up on the sofa with Slay watching NCIS. (Anybody got a link to some Gibbs/Abby porn? They so need to fuck.)
And in strolls Spike, pad pad pad, settles down before the disbeliving eyes of two cats and two humans. He tucks his paws under him on the rug, glances at the television, glances at us.
"What we watching, then?"
Djinny flings herself on the floor next to him and rolls over, purring. Webster, asleep on the suitcase, squints along the room and then goes back to sleep. Just Spike, he says.
Xev, on the back of the sofa, just stares at him. You can she that she has no idea what to do about this young man who acts as though he owns the place.
"Excuse me?" I say, "Out, Spike."
He all but sighs, and plods off toward the kitchen. Now, we go back to watching the TV, but he hangs a crafty left instead of a right and takes up residence in Slay's bass drum. (His drumkit, currently occupying the dining room, is a recording kit and thus has a hole in the front of it.)
The only reason we discovered this is that Djinny was so pleased to have him here she was on the other side of the drum, banging on it with her paws.
I am not making this up.
So we stood there and said, Oi. Spike? Out.
He peered round the edge of the drum, went back in it.
Two kicks of the pedal later he's left burn marks on the lino, that's how fast he vacated the premises.
So what next?
Has he had enough?
Will he return?
One thing is for sure, I'm ringing the surgery tomorrow to see if they have his real owner's telephone number. Because if they do I'm ringing the guy and asking him what he's going to do about his damn cat.
Knowing my luck, he'll tell me to keep him.
In which case, those balls are coming off before he can so much as blink. Bet on it.
Anyway, I've told Djinny that she can have boyfriends, she just isn't allowed to bring them home. *Sigh*
Thing is, Slay and I have both developed a soft spot for the little guy. He's very sweet, extremely polite, and my cats don't seem to mind him. Although Webster did spend a good ten minutes staring at the bass drum, vibrating with keen awareness, after Spike had left. He's a very special boy, is Webster.
Cats and vampires. The trick is definitely not to invite them in.
no subject
Date: 2007-02-12 10:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-12 10:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-12 11:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-12 10:33 pm (UTC)Not only is my buffy nerd heart aflutter at "Spike" but what a polite young lad!
He'll make a nice addition to your crazy household, I think :)
no subject
Date: 2007-02-12 11:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-13 12:24 am (UTC)(Though if you really don't want him but end up with him anyway, I know someone who'd love to get a cat and is also a Buffy fan. I could hook you up...)
no subject
Date: 2007-02-13 02:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-13 10:02 am (UTC)