I know there’s a logical explanation to why I step in grossness when I put on my slippers without checking them first. The answer, “because the cat put it there” has not escaped me; I’m more wondering why the slipper, in particular. I recall someone (maybe Vetbridge, I miss that guy) explaining that cats will bring their human a dead delicacy of some kind when they feel we’re too stupid to catch our own field mouse or goldfinch. I get it, I understand why they think this. It’s true, I suck at catching mice and birds.
But *why *do they have to leave it in my slipper? Or, in my muck boots in the garage? Why shoes, for god’s sake?! Sometimes I’m barely awake enough to remember to check my slippers before I stick my feet in them and yup, this morning it was the gift of cat barf in my left slipper. Last time it was a dead mouse. And it’s always a shoe. And why would a cat think barf is a lovely gift, anyway?
What the heck goes on in the brain of a cat that makes shoes an acceptable container for blecch?
At least it is something the cat could rationally want. I’ve had them put hickory nuts in my shoes. Yesterday I was outside and a cat came across the yard carrying a rotten lenght of tree branch it its mouth like a Golden Retriever, lay it at my feet, examined it, and sat on it. Cats are weird.
(After posting this question I realized there’s probably no true answer that we, as mere human, can ever know. I’ve asked a kind mod to trip this on over to IMHO…or the Pit, considering I put my foot into cat puke this morning. Damn, that’s pit worthy.)
Also, a new neighbor moved in recently who has inside/outside cats like me. Since then, I have had delivered (to the same spot by my porch steps the branch was dropped) four cat toys (three on the same day) and a belled cat collar. With the collar, I heard a bell tinkling in the middle of the night, went outside to see WTF was going on, and saw the burgler cat playing with the collar. (There is also a scrap of cloth that showed up there, but it has the practical purpose of being sat on.)
Yes, I know. But not all cats can live indoors as the world is right now. We have a neighbor (who is also my brother-in-law, but that’s a post for the Pit) with “barn cats” that have never been sterilized, nor have they received any kind of vaccinations ever. There are four cats now that live in my house because they came from next door sick, injured, or pregnant. In fact, in my home office right now is a mama cat from next door and the two kittens she had on March 1st. Before we brought her into our house with our own cats we kept her safe and warm—and well fed—in the garage. She received a flea spot, a wormer with ear mite killer, and a cursory exam from my friend (who is also a vet, something that comes in handy around here.) Only then did she come inside.
I can’t save them all, nobody can. We can’t bring them all into our houses. But folks like **Darren **and I do what we can to help…and we did it all without being lectured first.
One day when we lived together, you with the face and I were about to go somewhere. Naturally, she stepped into her shoes. (I remember they were brown Doc Martens oxfords. Ah, the 90s!) She started jumping around in what I mistook as enthusiasm, so I started jumping and clapping my hands too. I thought maybe she’d won the lottery or caught the Holy Ghost or something.
“ZIGGY PUT A MOUSE IN MY SHOE!!!” she cried.
Ziggy, our orange cat, was sitting off to the side with a grin on his face. Somehow it was both innocent and evil.
He never put mice in my shoes. But he once put a bird foot in my bed.
Well said. I have an outdoor cat (two if you count the stray that has been showing up to my door at mealtime, whose fate remains a bit up in the air as I debate what to do about it) despite being a firm believer in indoor-only cats.
I adopted him planning to have him as an indoor cat, but he was a huge behavior problem. After nearly a year I still have a mark on my leg from where he sunk his fangs into me when I tried to gently nudge him out of the door. I told the vet I had to regretfully take him to the no-kill shelter and she begged me not to, saying it would be better to make him an outdoor cat. (I’ve since visited the shelter and see why she begged me; it’s a nightmare of crowded, sick, smelly cats.)
He’s now a very happy, affectionate cat. Since he is half blind from little fire ants and lazy from a heart condition, I doubt he’s hurting the local bird population much. And he has become so mellow that I’ve been experimenting with letting him into the house again, so far so good.
So yeah, the fact that I have an outdoor cat doesn’t make me evil.
I tried making my cat an indoor cat for the past four years. During the last couple of years, he would have these weird depressive spells that would last several weeks. A spell would lift and he’d be normal for a couple of months, and then he’d fall back into one. I tried so many things to cheer him up, but nothing worked.
Until this past November. I was doing a lot of yardwork over a few days and decided to see if his depression would improve if he came outside with me. It was an amazing transformation. He played in the leaves as I raked them up. I got teary-eyed just watching him be happy.
So ever since then, I’ve been letting him spend a time outdoors. I watch him from the window every so often, just to make sure he’s not getting into mischief. He has full run of the backyard, but he mostly stays on the concrete patio just looking at things. I made him a catnasium out of cinder blocks that he likes to climb. He’s like a brand-new cat. No more depression! I feel bad that I tried to make him be someone he isn’t for all those years.
BTW, in the spirit of “pix or it didn’t happen”, I wasn’t quick enough to capture The Carrying Of The Wood, but here is The Inspection Of The Wood and The Sitting Of The Wood.
