This crusty old cat is Bob. He is seen here in one of his rare appearances indoors. Bob lives for the hunt. Bob lives for the fight. Bob is one bad ass kitty cat. At least that is what Bob thinks anyway.
I will say Bob does seem to be very good at what he does. He is the only cat we have who consistently stays outdoors and has done so safely for 10 years now. Somehow the coyote, the fox, the fisher and the bobcat have not been able to make Bob a meal. We have certainly fed them some other cats, but not Bob.
Bob's story starts out in a classic cat way. Picked up as a kitten at a shelter, thrust into a group home of other felines and expected to get along. And he does get along to a degree. He tolerates the other cats, but stays aloof of their silliness. He is just too cool to chase a string and he ignores the cat tower in the living room. The great outdoors is his domain.
12 years ago we did not have the intense predator problem that became such an issue oh about 5 years ago. Up until then, we let all our cats out when they led us to the door. Most of them always checked in around dinner time and then would settle in for the night. The ones that failed to show usually never showed again.
Bob often skipped curfew. It could be days before we saw him again. I cannot count the number of times I had written this bonehead off. Until we became used to his prolonged absences, many fruitless searches were carried out to find the little bastard. But Bob only showed when Bob wanted to. I am sure I walked by him in the brush while he hunkered down snickering at my clumsy human noise making ways.
Typical of an outdoor male cat, Bob would often show up with shredded ears, tufts of fur missing, or face open and crusted over in a big cat scab. He obviously was living his cat life to the fullest regardless of what we thought.
At the moment Bob is under house arrest. A recent encounter with who knows what resulted in an unseen scrape or cut that then resulted in an infection. A visit to the vet and $75 later, I am now entrusted to apply and inject antibiotics into his eye and by mouth. He is not allowed out either.
Great! Keeping Bob happy inside is impossible. He is not getting with the program. He has his agenda and it does not include the twice daily indignity of allowing me to force healthcare on him.
We are 4 days into a 7 day sentence now. The initial tusseling of the first couple of days have settled into a kind of resignation on his part. And I have figured out that dosing him is best done when I can catch him snoozing. I sneak up and stroke his fur. Whispering sweet nothings into his ears, I fill up his ego as I prepare to jam that eye dropper down his throat. I have it down now. Instead of teeth and claws, all I get now is the deep growl of a very unhappy cat.
I will say Bob does seem to be very good at what he does. He is the only cat we have who consistently stays outdoors and has done so safely for 10 years now. Somehow the coyote, the fox, the fisher and the bobcat have not been able to make Bob a meal. We have certainly fed them some other cats, but not Bob.
Bob's story starts out in a classic cat way. Picked up as a kitten at a shelter, thrust into a group home of other felines and expected to get along. And he does get along to a degree. He tolerates the other cats, but stays aloof of their silliness. He is just too cool to chase a string and he ignores the cat tower in the living room. The great outdoors is his domain.
12 years ago we did not have the intense predator problem that became such an issue oh about 5 years ago. Up until then, we let all our cats out when they led us to the door. Most of them always checked in around dinner time and then would settle in for the night. The ones that failed to show usually never showed again.
Bob often skipped curfew. It could be days before we saw him again. I cannot count the number of times I had written this bonehead off. Until we became used to his prolonged absences, many fruitless searches were carried out to find the little bastard. But Bob only showed when Bob wanted to. I am sure I walked by him in the brush while he hunkered down snickering at my clumsy human noise making ways.
Typical of an outdoor male cat, Bob would often show up with shredded ears, tufts of fur missing, or face open and crusted over in a big cat scab. He obviously was living his cat life to the fullest regardless of what we thought.
At the moment Bob is under house arrest. A recent encounter with who knows what resulted in an unseen scrape or cut that then resulted in an infection. A visit to the vet and $75 later, I am now entrusted to apply and inject antibiotics into his eye and by mouth. He is not allowed out either.
Great! Keeping Bob happy inside is impossible. He is not getting with the program. He has his agenda and it does not include the twice daily indignity of allowing me to force healthcare on him.
We are 4 days into a 7 day sentence now. The initial tusseling of the first couple of days have settled into a kind of resignation on his part. And I have figured out that dosing him is best done when I can catch him snoozing. I sneak up and stroke his fur. Whispering sweet nothings into his ears, I fill up his ego as I prepare to jam that eye dropper down his throat. I have it down now. Instead of teeth and claws, all I get now is the deep growl of a very unhappy cat.
2 comments:
I am certain that all cats undergo mandatory training in ninjutsu in the womb. They're stealthy, sneaky, nimble, and downright malevolent if they're unhappy.
I have many a scar from my attempts to clip claws, bathe, or administer medicine to my cats.
Hello,
My father and mother live outside of town and got two kittens from us to keep the rattlesnakes down and work on the mice. My dad owns a mule and one of the cats jumps up on her back daily and rides her around for awhile. She seems to enjoy the company.
ho hum
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