Her Majesty is Not Amused.

Well, the inevitable feline pushback showed up yesterday afternoon. The boys and I came home after shit-shoveling, I opened the door, and Click shot out like a bullet from the barrel of a gun. She hung around the cabin, ignoring every blandishment and coolly evading every attempt at capture. At first I left the door open for her, but it really is a little cold for that so I compromised by letting the dogs out to keep her company and hopefully persuade her not to flounce off back “home” like she did last time. Whether she likes it or not, this is home now.

After a bit, the boys wanted back in. I invited her to join them and she did so without hesitation, glancing up as she passed me in the doorway as if to say, “On a scale of one to ten, how stupid do you think I am?” I suppose she didn’t get this old by offering herself up as a snack for the local predators too thoughtlessly, as many other cats have done in the past.

So clearly the Lair is in immediate need of a cat door. I had hoped to put that off, but not with a whole lot of hope. In the bits of debris that were once the old pantry building on Landlady’s Property, there is an ancient cat door. I removed it (breaking the screwdriver right off my BRAND NEW $65 &^%$! MULTITOOL), cleaned it up, and it seems to function okay so I guess it’ll do in a pinch. But I’d really prefer to get a new one before I start chopping holes in the Lair, y’know? So I sent an entreaty to Landlady to bring one up when she comes for the weekend, and she has agreed. We just have to survive – and I use that word literally – until then.

About Joel

You shouldn't ask these questions of a paranoid recluse, you know.
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To the stake with the heretic!