Poor sad cat
Shokes' cat is a little gray striped thing named Houdini.
She was given the name by the kind folks at the Humane Society because she escaped from whatever cage they put her in. They'd come in mornings to find her loose. She'd even free other cats so that she'd have someone to play with.
When Shokes picked her out, she was the only kitten kept in a cage within another cage to prevent escape.
For as long as Shokes has owned her, there has been another cat around. Last summer his roommate had a cat. Last September Claire had, as Christa has described her, a big white poofball named Channy.
Shokes and I are now subletting a decent little place on Gordon Street and there is no other cat for Houdini to play with.
This past weekend Houdini had a sleepover. Claire went back to her parents' for Mother's Day and left Channy with Shokes for the weekend.
I wasn't there when Channy was dropped off, but apparently Houdini was very happy to see Channy.
I was, however, there when Channy was picked up. Claire coaxed her into the plastic cat carrier and then stood at the door talking to me for a few minutes with the carrier hanging from her hand. The entire time, Houdini was walking in circles around Claire, looking up at the box that held Channy. Maybe trying to figure out how to free her. Maybe just confused.
Claire left. I passed the front door three times in the next ten to fifteen minutes.
The first time, Houdini was standing on her hind legs with her front paws stretched up and resting on the door.
The second time, she was sitting a few feet from the door, staring at it.
The third time, she was curled in a ball right beside the door.
About ten minutes later she meowed three times. Long, low and sad each time.
I try not to anthropomorphize, but sometimes it's damn hard.
She was given the name by the kind folks at the Humane Society because she escaped from whatever cage they put her in. They'd come in mornings to find her loose. She'd even free other cats so that she'd have someone to play with.
When Shokes picked her out, she was the only kitten kept in a cage within another cage to prevent escape.
For as long as Shokes has owned her, there has been another cat around. Last summer his roommate had a cat. Last September Claire had, as Christa has described her, a big white poofball named Channy.
Shokes and I are now subletting a decent little place on Gordon Street and there is no other cat for Houdini to play with.
This past weekend Houdini had a sleepover. Claire went back to her parents' for Mother's Day and left Channy with Shokes for the weekend.
I wasn't there when Channy was dropped off, but apparently Houdini was very happy to see Channy.
I was, however, there when Channy was picked up. Claire coaxed her into the plastic cat carrier and then stood at the door talking to me for a few minutes with the carrier hanging from her hand. The entire time, Houdini was walking in circles around Claire, looking up at the box that held Channy. Maybe trying to figure out how to free her. Maybe just confused.
Claire left. I passed the front door three times in the next ten to fifteen minutes.
The first time, Houdini was standing on her hind legs with her front paws stretched up and resting on the door.
The second time, she was sitting a few feet from the door, staring at it.
The third time, she was curled in a ball right beside the door.
About ten minutes later she meowed three times. Long, low and sad each time.
I try not to anthropomorphize, but sometimes it's damn hard.
