Pathetic (reputation shattered)

Ellen is home.

For three weeks I've been planning and plotting how I'm going to punish her, so that when she got home she would vow and declare never to do it again. (So, I'll admit it. Being home alone isn't all it's cracked up to be. A weekend is fine. No worries. But three weeks? That's just cruel and BORING.)

Many things passed through my mind (some of which Beth has alluded to in her previous post). But how to make it really good? A punishment worthy of the period of time? After all, I've been known to leave deposits after a mere weekend! Surely three weeks deserves something more. Bigger. Grander. More of a statement! (And bodily fluids are so passe!)

So I had it all worked out. I was going to hide. Hide, so that she thought I'd run away. I was going to stay away all day, make her feel really bad. (As well as all the bodily fluid deposits of course.)

But in this I have failed dismally. I took one look at her this morning and disintegrated into a blubbering mess. I meowed and cried and sooked, and followed her around the house, completely unbelieving she was finally home and fearful she would disappear again.

I am so PATHETIC. I still cannot allow her to leave my sight. The mere thought makes me quake.

I didn't even leave her ANY deposits. I clean forgot.

So much for my devilcat reputation!

the entertainment

I survived the writer-a-thon. Just. Spent much of the weekend curled up under E's doona (cosy) or nagging at her for attention. I have a sneaking suspicion I was the entertainment, however. One of E's friends spent an inordinate amount of time watching me and grinning whenever I did anything. I started to get a complex. The other one turned out to be one of Beth's humans, and I didn't know whether I should hold it against her. I thought maybe I should.

Home now, though. It's nice to be home.

Home invasion

I wasn't too impressed -- and not a little traumatised -- this morning when my home was invaded by a demon ginger cat! The evil one followed me inside, completely disregarding feline etiquette which states that houses are sacrosanct. Whoever heard of having to defend oneself in one's own living room?

So there we were, screeching and wrestling in the living room and the fur went flying (mine I regret to advise) and then Ellen bounded out of bed (for she had crawled back under the covers like a lazybones after opening my door this morning) and the evil demon cat ran away.

I moped about feeling sorry for myself while Ellen cleaned up the fur and some other regrettable mess, and then she locked me inside while she went out to breakfast. I believe she spent the morning asking after replacement cat flaps, because the whole reason the evil one could get in was because the magnetic mechanism no longer works owing to a previous repair job on the cat flap using non-magnetic strips of aluminium.

I confess I'm now a little uneasy because it's hard to relax inside when any moment I might be attacked by the evil one. I don't know what Ellen's going to do tomorrow when/if she goes out. I know she hates the idea of trespassing cats getting inside, especially the evil demon ginger cat. I have a feeling I might be locked inside all day. Not fun. But then, neither is being invaded.

At least it wasn't Zim Zam who attacked me. He is the ginger cat who lives in the driveway, and although we have regular confrontations, I know he would never break the taboo against entering the house of another cat!

A close shave

Of all the things I had planned to do this afternoon (sleeping), it was not to spend over two hours in my carry case being poked and prodded by a bunch of strangers.

You'd think I go to the vet enough, without being dragged there when I'm perfectly fine. It's not like it's a treat for being good, or anything. (And I have been very good of late.) And it's not like we don't have a vet at the end of the street instead of a half-hour car-ride away. Sheesh!

So I get dragged to the Animal Emergency Centre -- right in the middle of a very pleasant dream, I might add -- and first up I'm forced to say hello to some grey matron-cat called Beth. She seemed OK, not sick at all. And as I've already said, I was fine. So why were we here?

And THEN Ellen tells me that the reason we're here is to see whether I'm a blood-match for Fox, who as I already mentioned in a previous post is sick and might need a transfusion.

Oh boy. That cowed me, because Lita was there too and she looked really sad. And Beth was being brave, so I let them take me away. No way was I going to be the pathetic scardey cat -- even though my heart was pounding a mile a minute and I couldn't help growling a bit. And then I heard Ellen tell them I could be vicious, which I thought was a bit rich when I was trying so hard.

They came over to my cage and checked me out, and although I only spat and hissed a little bit -- the tiniest amount -- they backed off pretty quickly. I couldn't help feeling rather pleased at that. Maybe it's worth having a bad reputation sometimes!

So they started on Beth first, and she just let them do whatever they wanted. They prodded and poked and shaved a patch of fur off! then stuck in the biggest needle you've ever seen and drew out some blood!

Well, that tore it, because no way did I want any of that to happen to me . . . yet I had to remember that Fox is sick and Lita is Ellen's and my friend . . .

In the end, it turned out that Beth was both a good match for Fox and, being bigger than me, a better size for donating blood. This meant the vet staff (who had been giving my cage a wide berth, because I'd growl at them if they came too close) persuaded Lita and Ellen not to have me tested. Despite my thinking them pathetic scardey cats, I confess I was rather relieved. I mean, I would have done it (scratching and biting), but I'd much rather not have a shaved patch on my neck for the next few weeks, thank you very much!

So I came home unscathed (and unshaved) after all that. Poor Fox will still have his surgery and Beth will donate blood if required. I'll keep you posted as to their progress, and give thanks to the cat gods for my deliverance.

The island - Day 1 (Saturday)

When Ellen bundled me into my carry case, I had no idea where we were going. It took FOREVER to get there! I tried to talk to Ellen the whole way down, but she ignored me for the most part. The car went fast and bumped a lot. I couldn't see out the window, which was really frustrating.

When we finally arrived early afternoon, she stuffed all my gear into a tiny bathroom--carry case, food bowl and litter tray! I was so grumpy with her that I wouldn't come out of the carry case. I stayed there for hours, seething and (OK, I admit it) terrified. But Jeddah was there, running around as if he owned the place! He had the advantage. For all I knew there were more predators just waiting to attack me!

Finally I ventured upstairs after dinner (not that I ate much, my stomach was fluttering like a mad butterfly). Man, was it way cool upstairs! The space is massive, and I felt like an idiot for cowering downstairs all afternoon. I found Ellen's bedroom and decided to hang about in there.

She tried to lock me in that awful bathroom for the night! Why would she do that? She never locks me up at night. I suppose it might have been her mum that made her, but she could have shown some backbone! Anyway, I am too canny for that, and I escaped the bathroom and called to Ellen outside her bedroom door. She let me in, and thankfully let me sleep with her. It was almost like it was at home (but Jeddah was still around somewhere).

So that was the first day. I will tell you about Day 2, perhaps tomorrow.

Abandoned again

OMG it happened again! Ellen went away and left me - this time for two whole nights. Next time I see a wheelie case, I'm stowing away.

Helen came and fed me this time, once on Saturday morning and then Saturday evening. I had to wait until nearly midday on Sunday for Ellen to come home and feed me after that.

To make sure Ellen didn't sneak off again, I followed her around for the rest of the day on Sunday. Every time I heard the front door open or close, I ran to see. She did leave at about 2:30, and I almost panicked, but she came back again at about 5:00.

How can she do this to me? She knows I'm neurotic enough already; she doesn't need to add to it. This will probably end up with me having yet another case of cystitis and FLUTD - for nearly the 10th time. Well, she can damn well pay the vet fees.

I slept all evening on her lap, while she watched crappy tv. I couldn't help it. I wanted to be near her. Now I'm in perpetual dread that she'll do it again.

Meals on wheels

I am now ready to tell you about last week's trauma. Don't worry -- I didn't lose a limb or get squashed by a car or anything . . . nothing so bloody. But I did get abandoned for 36 hours, with the only contact being meals on wheels.

Ellen has done this before -- gone away on a work trip overnight, leaving me alone in the house -- and I hate it! It's bad enough that she leaves me home all day, without my having lonely evenings as well. And although she does warn me that she's not coming home, I never quite believe it.

Every evening I listen out for her to come home from work, and I'm there to welcome her! So I always get a shock when someone else opens the door instead. The first time it was her parents. I think her mum's afraid of me. I'm sure she doesn't like me. We rub each other up the wrong way. (And she always smells like that rotten dog, Jeddah.) I stay with Ellen's parents from time to time and they let me do what I want, which is nice. (Last time, they left a window open the whole time so I could go out all night!)

Then they went away, closed my cat door and left me to my own devices. Boring! A whole evening with nothing to do (except chase moths).

In the morning, Lita came to feed me. Lita is a cat person -- I can tell. She talks to me as an equal. I like that. She also lives with cats -- I can smell them. I wonder if they'd be nicer than those rotten furballs that live in my driveway? Anyone would be better than them. I try to be nice to Lita, but I think she's a bit wary of me as well. I must have swiped at her in the past. Maybe even drew blood. I was friendly to her this time though. I want her to like me again.

When Lita left, at least she opened my door again, so I could go outside. Ellen came home that night -- thanks to the great fluffball in the sky! She looked really tired and did nothing but watch TV for ages, but at least she let me sleep on her lap :-)