Karnak Street Kats

Velvet was my childhood pet, a longhaired, black cat. She was a mostly indoor cat, but did occasionally go out during the day. She was always in at night and remarkably well-behaved.

There was one night…

Our house was old with solid wooden walls that were covered with wallpaper. Under the wallpaper was a layer of cloth, the paper adhered to that layer. That one night, Velvet decided to remove the wallpaper and cloth from a large section of wall. She stood on a bookcase and worked upward, then moved to the floor and stripped paper from the lower wall. She worked for hours.

When my grandmother came into the living room the next morning, she was met with shambles. The wallpaper and cloth had been removed to the boards, and the floor was a litter of pieces of paper and cloth. Velvet had sense enough to hide and was nowhere to be seen.

My grandmother told me that she was ready to send Velvet packing or to, at least, become an outdoor only cat. I don’t think that she really would have done that to Velvet, but I do believe she was very upset.

Luckily for Velvet, my grandmother stopped to examine the wall that the cat had spent the night stripping. When she examined the wall, she discovered small insects were crawling all over it. She called my mother who had been raised in Texas. Mom knew instantly what my Wisconsin born grandmother did not. Those insects were termites.

Velvet was forgiven. Thanks to her, the exterminator was called and the termite infestation destroyed before any real damage was done. She must have heard the termites crawling between the wood and the cloth and gone after the source of the sound. Her diligence stopped the damage . Since then, we have had yearly termite inspections.
Velvet saved the house.

Labels: 7Vel.vet, black cat, grandmother, house, termites, wallpaper

Last night, as I sat in my bedroom I heard a strange, muffled scratching sound. I looked around but could see nothing unusual. I decided that the sound must be some critter under the house scratching on an outside wall. My bedroom was made by enclosing an old porch. There is not as much insulation as in the rest of the house and the floor boards are not as thick. The sound stopped, so I went to bed.

The next morning, I heard a small, muffled mew. I could not tell its location, but I knew that it was a cat. I called “kitty, kitty, kitty” and the mewing continued. It was coming from my closet.

I opened my closet door. There is a small, blue cardboard chest of drawers in one corner of my closet. Most of the drawers are empty at the moment. I use it to store seasonal clothing. All the drawers were closed. The mews were coming from the cardboard dresser. I began opening drawers.

I pulled open the bottom drawer. Curled up and filling the drawer was Irene, my gray and white cat. The inside of the drawer had been shredded. She had made the strange noise I had heard the night before as she tried to get out. She cried and let me pick her up. I held her a minute, then released her. She went to the water bowl immediately and drank and drank.

I don’t know how long she was in that drawer because she had come in during the afternoon. I don’t even know how she got in the closet, let alone in a closed drawer. A greater mystery is why she did not cry out the night before instead of just scratching. I guess I’m going to have to start a head count before bed each night.

Labels: cat, closet, drawer, hidden, Irene, mew, scratching

Horatio was a black and silver tabby that came to us as a feral cat and became a pet. We had a doggy door at the time, so Horatio learned to come and go as he pleased. At night, I insisted that all the cats be in and the doggy door sealed. Usually, this went without a hitch, but one night Horatio did not come in.

I went looking for him. He was a cat that came when called, so it was unusual that he not come when called. As I searched, I called repeatedly. No Horatio. I was worried, so I walked around the block. This did two things (1) if Horatio had wandered farther than usual perhaps he would hear me and (2) I could be sure there was no cat body in the street. We live near two very busy streets and have lost cats to cars before. There was no sign of Horatio, dead or alive. I returned home. Horatio did not return that night.

The next morning, I once more walked the neighborhood, but on a much expanded route. I made a ten block search to no avail. I was really worried. Maybe someone had taken Horatio. I decided that was unlikely because he was shy with strangers.

That afternoon, I put up signs around my block asking for help in locating my cat. I also checked with the local animal shelter. No Horatio.

The next morning there was a knock on the door. A cook with the restaurant next to our house was there. He asked me if I had lost a cat. I said yes. He informed me there was a cat loose in the stockroom of the restaurant. The cat would not let anyone near it. I knew it was Horatio.

The cook escorted me into the restaurant and to the storage room. The owner of the restaurant was there. She pointed to an upper shelf. There was Horatio among the liquor bottles. I asked everyone to step back, then reached for Horatio. He was obviously glad to see me and came into my arms with no coaxing. He did not even knock a bottle over.

How did he get into the restaurant? The owner gave me my answer. She explained that they had worked on the heating and air-conditioning a few days ago. Only yesterday did they discover that a workman had left the vent open on the roof. I knew that Horatio loved to run along the edge of the restaurant’s roof. Horatio must have found the open vent and climbed down, then somehow gotten into the kitchen and then the stockroom.Whatever Horatio had done, it had been dangerous.

When I got him home, I checked him out. He had a long burn on his stomach. I don’t know where he got it exactly, but he must have had a tight squeeze next to something very hot. I put ointment on the burn. In a few days, Horatio was fine. He was confined to the house for the next week. He did not complain at all about his incarceration. When allowed outside, he stayed in our yard. It was a long time before he did any climbing again.

Labels: black and silver tabby, disappear, Horatio, restaurant, signs, stockroom, vent

Horatio was a classic, black and silver tabby that I caught when he was about seven months old. A feral cat, he was living on the streets and totally wild. To my surprise, he tamed with ease. Horatio loved attention and totally lacked aggression toward humans. He was shy around strangers. In addition, he loved kittens and was always available to be a surrogate to stray youngsters.

As soon as I captured Horatio, I took him to my veterinarian. He was neutered, received a check-up and got his shots. Since he became so tame, he was allowed outdoors, but came in at night.

Horatio was a charming cat, but I discovered he had one very bad habit. He sprayed telephone jacks. He did not spray indoors otherwise. I discovered his bad habit when our phone went out.

I discovered that the wires and connections in the living room jack were totally rusted. Cat urine is very corrosive. Of course, I did not know which of my male cats had done this initially. I replaced the phone jack, but soon it was corroded again.

I replaced the jack again. Now I watched any cat that came in the living room. One day, I caught Horatio in the act. He was the mysterious sprayer.

To combat his spraying, I covered the jack with plastic. That preserved the jack, but did not stop Horatio from marking it. He also found the jacks in the den and the dining room. More plastic covers and new jacks. As long as he lived with us, he periodically sprayed the phone jacks. They were an attraction he could not resist.

Labels: cat, feral, Horatio, tabby, telephone jack

Shackleton, a small, neutered male cat, is an orange tabby with white highlights. His feet, muzzle, and tummy are white while his eyes are yellow-gold. He has lived with me since he was ten days old.

With spring, his goal is to be outside. He loves to bolt out the door whenever I open it whether I want him out or not. Most of the time I block his nefarious exit, but not every time.

I do not want him outside because he does not see well. He had vision problems when he came to live with us. His vision has improved, but he does not have the visual acuity of a normal cat. This is especially noticeable when he ventures across the street. He simply does not see the traffic. I have had more than one heart stopping moment. Nevertheless, I know that he will get out. I just want to control when.

Last week, he and I had a particularly difficult day. I was busy and did not want to worry about the adventuring of my little orange cat. I blocked Shackleton's exit each time. He was obviously annoyed and took his annoyance out on his house mates. Finally, I told him that once I finished my current project I would go out with him. He seemed to understand and settled down for a nap.

I finished my work and began another task. I had forgotten my promise. There was a tap on my leg. I looked down. There was Shack. He tapped my leg again with his front paw, then walked to the front door. I remembered my promise, just as he had. We went outside together.

I had never had a cat ask for attention like that. Shack is unique.

Labels: orange tabby, outside, promise, Shackleton, tap

My aunt's cat came to live with me when it became obvious she was pregnant again. Sugar is a faded tortoiseshell who was extremely wary of people. After the kittens were born and weaned, she immediately went into season. During this time, she was very affectionate, coming to me for attention.

Sugar had appeared on my aunt's farm less than a year ago. I assumed she was a young cat. I could not tell for sure because Sugar would not let me pick her up. I made an appointment for her to be spayed. When I took her in, I told the receptionist what little I knew of her history. I was assured that they would do a complete exam and give me an estimate of her age.

When I picked her up late that day, I was in for a surprise. Sugar was not a young cat. My vet estimated that she was at least eight years old. That changed my plan for her. Originally, I had planned to return her to the farm, even though, my aunt had moved into the city. A neighbor of my aunt's had agreed to feed and water Sugar as well as the other farm cats. Now, I knew she was not so young. I decided to let her stay with me as an indoor cat. I would try to find a home, but I knew a cat her age would probably stay with me.

Sugar's affectionate nature vanished with her spaying. She has become the terror of her part of the house. She wants nothing to do with me unless I have food. She barely tolerates my touch. She swats any of her offspring that draw close to her and attacks the other two, older females that share her quarters. Teegar, a large, black, male cat had the audacity to try to enter her part of the house. Sugar drove him back with an all out attack that sent all the cats into hiding. Sugar is no longer sweet.

Labels: cat, farm cat, Sugar, sweet, Tortoiseshell

Dos was a large, orange tabby that came to us as an adult cat. He would sit on the steps leading to the swimming pool so that only his head was above the level of the pool deck and watch us swim. I would talk to him whenever I noticed him. In time, he came around when no one was in the pool. Finally, he accepted our friendship.

Checking around the neighborhood, I learned that he was the offspring of a feral female and had no home. We adopted him and made him part of the family which meant neutering and all shots. He adjusted to everything but being in at night. Until he was much older, he did not willingly come in at night.

One late afternoon in the fall, I began my cat round-up. The wind had been blowing hard all day and for some reason the pool pump was off, so the pool surface was completely covered in oak and elm leaves. If you did not know that the pool was full of water, you would think that this was just a leaf strewn lawn.

The cats came in, all but Dos. I went looking for him. He was sitting on the pool deck. As I approached, he sauntered away. He could easily leave the yard by jumping off the deck onto the drive way if he continued on the same path, but he stopped. He seemed to be studying the pool which was fourteen feet wide and twenty-eight feet long. Did he think that we had filled it in and covered it with leaves?

I don't know. Maybe Dos thought he could leap fourteen feet. He looked over his shoulder at me. I had long since stopped, no longer pursuing him. He looked back at the pool, then started down the deck at trot. As he hit top speed, he turned and launched himself across the pool. For a moment, I thought he would make it. He missed by a little over a foot.

There was a tremendous splash, and Dos completely disappeared under water. Then he bobbed to the surface, paddling. I called to him from the steps out of the pool. He ignored me and swam to the nearest side. He made a lunge and got the upper part of his body out of the pool, then pulled the rest of his body out. He shook himself. I called but he headed toward the front of the house.

I hurried back into the house, through the kitchen, dining room, and living room to open the front door. Sure enough, a very wet, orange cat came in the front door. I scooped him up and headed to the bathroom. Soon, I had him toweled dry and content to settle down for the night.

As far as I know, Dos is the only one of my cats that ever tried to leap across the pool. Maybe he was just trying to walk on water.

Labels: Dos, leaves, orange tabby, swimming, swimming pool, water