As I was getting ready for bed, I thought I heard a baby crying. It sounded awfully loud considering the only baby I know of on the block is across the street. I thought maybe they were loading the kid into the car or something (kind of late, but…). So, I ignore it. It keeps going on and I slowly realise it’s not human. It’s a cat. It’s damn Batsy. He’s sitting outside my living room window howling non-stop. I try and ignore it, but I can hear it in my bed even with the covers piled on top of my head. To make matters worse, the howling is agitating my cats big time. Mishka is growling at Batsy (the window goes almost all the way down to the floor, so Mishka is eye to eye with Batsy) and throwing himself at the window. Freya keeps running into the bedroom, jumping on me, licking me to alert me to the problem, nipping at me when that doesn’t work, then jumping down and running back into the living room. Lather, rinse, repeat.
After about 20 minutes of this, I decide to give up and put Batsy in the garage half of my converted garage. (Yeah, I know that doesn’t make sense, but it’s the half that’s not converted.) I can put him there, he can’t get to the other cats and I will just have to hope he can’t get into the cat food containers and have a party. I go out there in my pajamas (t-shirt and shorts) and open the garage door. (Did I mention it’s 26 out?) I coax Batsy in, but as soon as I start to lower the garage door, he bolts. Okay. I put food out and get him further into the garage before trying to close the door. Nope. Stupidly, I pick him up and give it a try.
Did I mention how stupid that was? He freaks, I can’t control him, he scratches me but good, jumps down and goes under the door…as it’s going down. I do my best to stop the door, but it does make contact with him. I don’t know how hard it hit, but he kept going, so I hope it wasn’t too hard.
You know, given my track record here, it might be better for him if he stays an outdoor cat!