In September, two cats started hanging out more often in our yard, communicating through the window with Reno, 2012’s rescue. We think he shared the info about good treats and soft beds with his buds. Of course, we offered food and they scarfed it up. Hubs built a café for the kitties, to shelter them while they feasted, plus he fashioned a cathouse for each. Since both are males and not thrilled with seeing each other, we put one abode on each side of the deck.
We shall say one fella has seen the inside of a surgery room and one has not.
During travel time, our pet sitter took awesome care while we were away, and to make things simple, we called the orange tabby, OC (orange cat) and the striped guy with socks, Boots. I know, not too creative. But hey, we were under the impression that they were neighbors’ cats and we weren’t going to assign names and get attached. 😉
OC has ventured in and out of the house, not bothering the two indoor kitties, Sirra and Reno. So it was a no-brainer when we opted to gather up Boots last week, prior to the polar vortex descending upon the Deep South, and shuttle him into the garage. We’d been able to pick him up to pet him but never attempted to carry him.
Boots purred as I held him. I felt scabs, on his ears, tummy and back. Some fresh. He shivered and shook but was compliant and very mild-mannered as I tucked him into the garage with fresh feline supplies.
Never would I imagine how much he enjoys the indoors. He loves the isolation and his wounds are healing with some meds applied twice daily. I digress.
Our revolving door policy would not keep OC indoors during the chill, since he loves roaming nights. The garage was definitely out since our new resident Boots was totally unpacked and settled.
And we were trying out names. Nix Boots. Hawthorne? Maybe.
We considered OC’s name, certainly not permanent. What about Hemingway, since that fits his laid back, life-on-his-terms spirit? Probably.
Back to the arrival of cold weather. The only option left for Hemingway to escape the chill would be my office. He was on board, totally, door closed, lights out.
Ah, we felt so good, four cats – YIKES! – and all would be warm from that nasty frost.
Morning came, and we checked on Hemingway first. He had disappeared!
Oh yeah, our little Houdini Hemingway pulled up the floor heat register and slithered down the ductwork!
Panic stricken, we flipped off the heat, threw on clothes over our pjs, and headed outside to the crawl space. Perhaps he was down there, stuck under the house, able to exit the ductwork, but trapped because the crawl space door stays locked and closed.
Nope, but we heard his cries inside the duct work, about two feet from the door. Immediately we scrambled underneath the house, clawed at the metal casings in hopes of loosing our captured cat.
Some rescuers we were!
I’ll spare you the rest of the details – although it took the better part of an hour to slice the space in half – and say Hemingway is fine. Vet says so.
However, a room without ductwork , my closet, is the ONLY place for him, to spread out and snooze, play hide and seek in the dark, and feel cozy.
Hawthorne was none the wiser. I believe he slept through the entire ordeal. As did Reno and Sirra. Who could blame them, all snuggled down for a long winter’s nap.