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Kraftwerk
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Kraftwerkthe Wonder Kitty |
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Nicknames: Kittykat, Lardo Kitty, Gordo Kitty, Kittyspawn (after the chair incident)
At one time, she weighed 15 pounds, but has lost 3 pounds. She will eat anything, including a large slice of Christmas ham. We thought it odd that she didn't wake us up the morning after Christmas.
Baby, Baby It's a Wild World
or, Let's Play Hide and Seek
Since we moved to the country (OK, the suburbs), Kraftwerk has grown increasingly curious about the great outdoors. Downtown, there wasn't any place to go out (except the hallway, and the neighbors did knock on our door to return her). Now, we live next to (about 10 yards) from a very busy road with bad visibility. For these reasons, she's never been outside, except in the carrier and when she fell out the window.
But she is a cat and should be out running after birdies and terrifying the rodents in my vegetable garden. To this end, we bought a collar, cat leash and 20-foot dog lead that screws into the ground. The next time she wanted to go outside, Jorj put the collar on, attatched the leash, and clipped the leash to the lead.
Amazingly, she didn't panic! She took a step. She took another.
Then she panicked, running for dear life, zooming across the yard until she hit the end of the lead and --
-- the collar snapped. Thank goodness -- it's designed to do that, should she get caught on a bush and strangle herself, but now she was running amok in the garden, only yards from state route 73.
Fortunately, being a house cat, she ran to one of the most sheltered spaces in the yard, behind some fairly tall bushes in the middle of a large patch of climbing (not poison) ivy. A number of rescue plans were considered, for example, a forked attack from the left and right so that she could run straight out the middle into another part of the lawn. Do you have visions of the Keystone Kops? Fortunately, we didn't try this. Instead, we remembered the one thing irresistable to a 12-pound (that's 5.5 kg) cat -- an early dinner.
Cousin Sassy
Kraftwerk Takes a Trip
or, I Need Those Tranquilizers More Than She
Kraftwerk hates to travel as much as she loves to eat. Even picking her up deserves a yowl or two of protest.
The hottest night of 1996 in Philadelphia (and I mean downtown, Center City, no trees and all concrete, 102 degrees), the power goes out to our tenth-floor apartment. We arrive home eight or ten hours into the debacle, and walk up the nine flights of pitch-black stairs, feeling the walls, counting "... seven, eight, nine, turn, open door, step, turn, one, two, ..." to the waiting cat. To save money, the air conditioning was off and the windows open. Forsighted of us, eh?
No power means no water -- a pump moves the water to a tank on the roof. No pump, and the water is used up fairly quickly. So, no shower, no fan, no air conditioning, no breeze.
No sleep.
After various experiments with internal computer and stereo fans and batteries, we decide to rent a hotel room. Pack an overnight bag, and Kraftwerk who probably needs water by now. [She may hate travelling, but she loves sitting in her carrier. She's not very smart.] Off we go, backpack, cat, and flashlights in hand, to find a hotel room in a city that just built a convention center.
Mary, Joseph and Kraftwerk in Philadelphia
or, No Room at the Holiday Inn
First we try the hotel next door, which is booked due to a convention. Easily discouraged, we return home, only to be driven onto the street again by the heat. Kraftwerk discovers the beautiful acoustic qualities of the stairwells, seeking to drive us all deaf with yowling.
Next we try the Holiday Inn a block away. No deal. Try the Omni another seven blocks away. Fine. Trudge, trudge, trudge. Every looney is out on the street and each makes the same "funny" comment, "Meow."
The Omni (a lovely hotel, you should try it) has room. Of course, they don't take pets. It's time for plan B.
Plan B
or, Who Owes Us Favors?
Being the nice people we are, we start calling people who can't turn us down -- people who once slept on our couch for three weeks, and relatives. No one answers and we are reduced to calling people crazy enough to answer the phone at midnight -- Nicky. After the usual battle of getting a message to him via a roommate, he agrees to give us the couch and, best of all, he has air conditioning. All we have to do is get across town. We hail a cab.
Kraftwerk may howl, may moan pitifully, may attract the wrong kind of attention when she's being walked in her carrier, but she is manageble in the carrier. If her tranquilizers weren't eight blocks away and ten stories up, we would have zonked her out. All there was to do was pray she didn't pee, poop, or puke, or all three (while making low, throaty moans that are just cause for the SPCA to bust you in seven states).
Fortunately, all she did was poop. She was fine for the first five or seven blocks, until she realized what was going on. Then it began. Moan. Moan. Moan. Disturbing sound that was not a moan.
"Is she...?"
"Yes."
Remember, it's still nearly 100 degrees out, so the cabbie has the windows up and the air blasting. No fresh air. And here comes the Eau de Kraftwerk, still two and a half miles from our destination.
I really thought he was going to kick us out in front of 30th Street Station, although he never said a word. What could we say, "Don't worry, it's not on the car, just all over herself."? No tip would have been big enough. The cabbie dropped us off, Nicky and visiting girlfriend were waiting, the flip bed was out, the sheets were clean, the cat was freshly bathed (another indignity), and the roomies were quiet. We slept blissfully.
She got fleas.
Kraftwerk Tries to Fly
or, Wait Until the SPCA Hears About This One!
Kraftie is not an outdoor cat. Most of her experience with the outdoors has involved puking and pooping (see above). Recently, she has begun to venture into the great outdoors.
Oh, it all begins innocently enough, sitting on windowsills, watching birds and insects, going ballistic when a fieldmouse saunters along. Then she wants more -- sniffing the air outside, peering through doors left open, stepping onto the back patio. Until, finally, she took the big leap.
It Wasn't Her Fault
or, Stupid Owner Tricks
I admit, it was all my fault. Just because she didn't try it last year doesn't mean she wouldn't try investigating the great outdoors via our (second-floor) bedroom window. During a brief warm spell, I left a window open and the screen not in place. The windows are next to her favorite dresser top, but, as I said, she didn't try it last year. I lay on the bed to read a magazine, wait for Jorj to let me log in, and enjoy the breeze.
Then I heard the sound of kitty claws scrabbling on asphalt shingles.
I ran to the window to see a small, grey kitty-face come lunging up out of the darkness into the room, onto the dresser, under the bed, out the door, into the guest room and under the guest bed, all while I am screaming, "What do you think you are doing? Are you trying to scare me to death? Don't you ever do that again! You could have gotten yourself killed! What were you thinking..."
As if she understood a word I said.
Apparently, while she gazed at the stars through the open window, Kraftie decided to sit on the sill and fell out, or jumped for a nicely moving shadown. Either way, she landed on the steeply sloped roof just under the window, and probably stopped herself on the gutter before launching herself upwards through the open window.
Footnotes
Brief Warm Spells
We timed it. The last warm spell was 24 minutes of springlike weather here in Philly before a return to snow (really) April 9.
Cat vs. Owner Understanding
This is not uncommon among childless cat owners. One friend reports saying, "Now kitty, you shouldn't do that." This says more about the understanding of the owners than the cats.