In last week’s
Wednesday’s Words, I made a casual reference to our cat window and racoons that
I’ve been asked about. Despite the fact that this represents something I’m not
very proud of, I decided that I should satisfy people’s curiosity about the
matter.
I consider
myself a fairly intelligent woman. I went to university, and I never got a grade
under a B plus. I exercise my brain regularly – not only through my profession
which requires me to research, and then construct plots that work and characters
that enchant. But I also do various hand to eye co-ordination, puzzle, and
strategy games.
My motto is use
it or lose it, and while my body seems determined to be on a downward slope,
I’ll be damned if my brain will be.
But every once
in a while, and usually about the time I’m feeling rather proud of myself and my
abilities and accomplishments, I demonstrate that mentally speaking, it’s
possible I’m not all that high up on the food chain after all.
We have a cat
window. When we purchased this cat window, my beloved installed it into a piece
of finished pine, and cut that piece of pine to fit our small kitchen window—the
one beside the back door, and adjacent to the kitchen counter. He then further
installed another piece of that finished pine as a “shelf”, so that the cat
could have a place to stand going out, or coming in, that was quite a bit wider
than the window sill it covered.
You know how
real estate sales people are known for saying, “location, location, location”?
Well, that kitchen counter close to the cat window—that is where we have always
had the cat’s kibble dish.
It’s an out of
the way place, and it’s off the floor—because as we’ve always had cats, so too,
we’ve always had dogs.
Word had
apparently gotten around the animal neighborhood that there was a twenty-four
seven restaurant, with easy access and reasonable prices—free. From time to
time, when we had our last cat—Boots, and my daughter’s cat, Crash, we would
also find ourselves entertaining “interloper kitties”. I don’t mean the one we
have one on a regular basis. His name is MoJo and he used to be my daughter’s
cat, too. He would come from time to time for food and cream and treats. Still
does, in fact.
But there were
other “interloper” kitties, some I’d never seen before. I’d hear the cat window,
know my cats were indoors and asleep, and look into the kitchen to see an
unfamiliar cat chowing down on Meow Mix. I never really minded that too much.
Our old dog, Rochie, would sometimes object most vociferously. Sometimes the
cats would too. But when they did, or the instant either my beloved or I came
into the kitchen, the guest cat would leave, post-haste.
Then we lost
our old kitties, who are waiting at the rainbow bridge for us, became inheritors
of our new kitty who chose us to live with, and of course, we got Mr.
Tuffy.
Mr. Tuffy takes
great exception to other animals coming into the house. When MoJo pops in, we
have to keep the dog in arms until the kitty is finished with his tuna, cream,
and treats. Not a problem really, and it’s been a long time since there has been
any other cats dining at Chez Ashbury.
But cats aren’t
the only feral night creatures looking for an easy meal. One night, I got out of
bed—the dog hadn’t even awakened—and headed to the bathroom.
I heard the
sound of the cat window swing wide and loud—and I thought, oh, a kitty! I went
to the door to look out the window, and it wasn’t a kitty that glared back at me
for so rudely interrupting it’s feast. It was a racoon!
After I made
sure the cat was in, I “blocked” that cat window. And did so the next night. I
used a seven kilogram tub of cat litter, and felt secure. Until the next
morning, when I discovered the litter on the floor, the cat food dish empty—and
the lid pried of the plastic container containing the dog’s kibble
bag, the bag taken out, slashed, and emptied, too.
I frantically
looked for and tried out other methods to “block” the cat window—there was no
latch, of course. That had broken off years before. What to do,
what to do? I didn’t want a racoon coming into my house!
And then it
suddenly occurred to me. I went over to the window where the cat window had been
installed, lifted it...and pulled out the insert.
Friends, I
stood there, window closed, insert in hand, and thought of all the stormy cold
winter days over the last decade or so, when I’d tried to block the wind with
one method or another, and wished I could do so much more
effectively.
Nope, I’m
afraid I’m not very high up on the food chain at all.
Love,
Morgan
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