Campfyre Stories

It was almost a year ago that the cat fell out the window.  This weekend I purged my bedroom (resulting in 3 full bags for Goodwill, but that’s not even related to the point).  I learned that the windows will open from the top and it *seemed* that this would be a fine compromise - having the windows open without the cat falling out of them.

Yeah…  not so much.

Because he figured out how to perch on top of the window.  He’s the only one of the three who possibly can do that, being that the twins are 20 and 25 pounds, respectively.  He, however, weighing in at under 10 pounds can, with a little determination, get up there.  And stay up there.  Until he relaxes and falls out the window.

I woke up with a start at 4am, hearing Dracula growling at the window.  He has a nemesis who is a recent addition to our neighborhood.  The Tom likes to sit in the backyard *looking* at Dracula.  Drac makes yelling, growling noises at him and, generally, Shaman and Star come closer to watch the whole thing go down.  Except this morning?  No Star.

Also, no crying or meowing, but I thought I heard the sound of the psychological trauma of a seasoned street cat chasing a stupid, frightened housecat.  So I went out back and looked, but couldn’t find the cat.  Came back in.  Looked out the window again, found the cat cowering in a corner.  Went back outside and shoved him in the bathroom window.

I would have liked to have gone back to sleep for another two hours, but the cats took it upon themselves to yell and growl and menace each other.  Apparently, now that Star smells like outside, he’s unacceptable to the other two cats.  He, on the other hand, has been traumatized (by his own consistent stupidity) and doesn’t have a whole lot of patience for the other two cats.

For me, I got my arm all kinds of torn up while attempting to pick up one of the cats and having it turn exceptionally ugly.  I haven’t been able to get back to sleep, so I just got up and started being productive and I’m listening to cats make fire truck siren noises.

Well, I’ve been in PT for three weeks now and the only real difference I notice is that I can really feel the muscles in my calves.  Considering we’re supposed to be working on my ankle, this doesn’t strike me as real progress. 

I have another two weeks before I have a follow up with my ortho and I really don’t know what sort of report he’s going to want me to give.  Until the weather gets back to extreme cold, I may not notice a difference, and I don’t know how to determine increased strength and/or stability unless I actually make it through a full summer without spraining my ankle.

The truth is that I’m starting to suspect that it’s going to take a whole lot more than 6 weeks of physical therapy to bring me up to the structural stability that I really need.  I don’t know that surgery is the answer either, but there has to be something that will WORK.  Maybe it will be PT for several months or maybe it will be an eventual surgery, but right now, even though I not only don’t mind, but sort of enjoy the PT, I don’t think it’s bringing about the results that anyone was hoping for.

But, it’s only May, and I’ve set aside all of 2009 to try to fix everything that’s broken, so there’s still time to work it out.

The boys have a new game.  "Try to get out of the apartment."  I’m convinced that Star is going to pull the weather stripping off the door in his attempts to get out into the hallway.  As long as the door is locked, there’s nothing the cats can do, but as soon as we forget to lock the door, the cats are trying to get out into the hallway.

For the most part, they get out when I’ve stepped outside, and bolt back into the apartment when I come back in the door.  Except for last night.  I didn’t notice that Dracula had, instead, bolted in a different direction, though I saw Star run back into the apartment.  I also didn’t think much of the yowling, since these cats yell a lot.

So I didn’t realize that Drac was trapped in the hallway and, apparently, yowling at my idiot neighbor’s door.

Now, if it were me and there was a cat in the shared hallway, my first assumption would be to check with my neighbor and find out if her cat had escaped, but apparently that’s too much common sense for my neighbor.  She assumed that an alley cat had, somehow, gotten into the building.  She and her boyfriend were trying to send my poor kitty outside…  a kitty who has spent probably a grand total of 4 hours outdoors in his 8 years of life.

I heard the ado in the hallway and went out to check.  As soon as I called, Dracula came BOOKING back into the apartment, throwing himself at the door to get back in.  The poor thing was completely terrified at having been treated like a street cat who didn’t belong in the building where he lives.

He proceeded to hide for most of the rest of the night, then snuggle with me for reassurance.

Considering the sorts of shenanigans that I’ve put up with from these cats, this one is really nothing, although I can’t even begin to imagine how torn up my neighbor would have been had she actually tried to put poor Drac outside (but the thought does amuse me because I really dislike that woman so much).  The thing is, the idiot woman KNOWS that I have cats.  On what planet is the first assumption when all the doors are closed and locked, that a random alley cat *somehow* entered the building? 

I’m hoping that this will be the major shenanigans of the year for the cats, however, I’m 100% sure this will not be the last I have to deal with my neighbor’s shenanigans.