I began this blog entry several months ago. It was an evolution, both in events and composition. The saga, I believe, has come to an end with recent events.
I have decided to reveal my oddest activity (and among my activities and obsessions, to be the oddest is odd indeed).
For over a YEAR now, I have been trying to cat-proof my yard.
Yes, a cat corral if you please. An outdoor, open air cat cage.
Can't be done you say? Read on....
Why would I want to cat-proof my yard?
The why doesn't seem as defensible as it did a year ago...but I'll put my rationale out there - be gentle in your mockery.
When we moved to Miami, it was a very lonely time, especially for Chris. He entered high school - no friends, no mutual history, no activities. We went to the animal shelter (that story deserves a blog entry of its own) and picked out a four month old kitten.
Every time we've gotten a pet, the pet has become mine. The cats have avoided warm, rumpled kids' beds to sleep on my head. MUCH better. I've been the alpha dog twice for our beloved puppies, though Barry likes to declare himself "The Alpha DOG!" most often when playing with the dog, but sometimes randomly after a beer or two.
Paco was different. Paco bonded with Chris. To this day, Paco lets Chris carry him like a baby, cradled face up in his arms. He runs to the front door when the car lock "beep" sounds and Chris arrives home from school. So as a Mom who saw her son suffer for a long year before friendships formed, I feel a great deal of gratitude and love for Paco.
Paco is a 15 plus pound, four year old orange tabby male cat. Paco was a sweet biddable kitty until November-ish, 2009. My neighborhood (like many Miami locales) has an large colony of feral (wild) cats. Our kind-hearted neighbor feeds the cats, increasing their presence around our yard.
Evidently, some (or all) of the female cats went into heat during this period. Despite the fact that Paco is neutered, the sweet lure of love made him...psychotic. He began to spray, pace, and yowl throughout the night.
Why not let him out?
Our first cat, Spooky, was an "in and out" cat. He hunted, most memorably bringing home a rabbit and tearing into by the front door as my neighbors came over for a morning coffee.
In general, the arrangement worked well - we'd call Spooky in the evening, and he'd come trotting home.
However, in Jonesboro, Arkansas, Spooky was killed by a neighbor's dog who came onto our property and mauled her.
Since then, I've not let any of our cats roam.
Another consideration was the feral cats. They are not vaccinated, fixed, or clean. Territorial fights abound. Paco was front-declawed - how would he defend himself? And, while it was the least of my concerns, we had struggled with fleas for several months and I didn't want to repeat trying to rid yard, pets and home of the pests.
To wear Paco out, I took him outside in the fenced back yard. Two sides are chain link with a large ficus hedge cover - two are wood and smooth. Clever and strong, Paco found several areas to dig and push and pull the chain link fence away from the ground, and so escape to meet his amor (sss).
And so began my quest. LET me say in my defense - these measures took place over many weeks, and were mostly casual efforts while I was outside. Do NOT picture crazy Carl Spackler (Bill Murray) from Caddyshack (oh, now you are! ARGHH).
First, I tried filling the holes with heavy rocks, but Paco was able to pull them out with his man-hand size paws.
THEN, I wired the rocks to the holes, but rocks are hard to wire (duh) and the cat could evidently wiggle them aside and escape.
THEN, I wired bricks (leftover from drive-way paving)(much easier to wire securely)(consider that a helpful household tip) to the areas, which DID defeat him...but he dug new holes along the same line of fence.
THEN, I bought wooden garden edging, and wired THAT to the entire vulnerable fence line and VOILA! Cat contained and happiness reigned...da da dum...from March until this December. The intervening months were fabulous. We have a dog door, and Paco (as well as the dog, Aiden) would go in and out at will, enjoying the yard, catching lizards and watching the birds.
We closed the dog door at night, but the cat rested well after his energetic jaunts. Cat owners are probably scratching their proverbial chins at this time... how did I keep Paco from CLIMBING out of the yard???
When Paco was about a year old, he had a freak cat-accident. Jumping from the bar island to the sofa, he missed and fell awkwardly on the hard tile floor, breaking his front paw/leg. He had a cast on for 6 weeks, and limped for a long time. Paco hadn't climbed in so long, he didn't know he could - until one of the feral cats SHOWED him how EASY it was!
The floozy wiggled her alluring tail, jumped into the yard, caught Paco's manly eye, and then demonstrated how easy it was to escape from the dog and I.
Paco bided his time. I hoped for the best.
The day I found him on the top of the gate, yowling for help, I thought, "Hey, maybe he'll be too scared to try again!"
Nope, he had learned - the fence was conquerable. Up and out he went.
The dog door was locked and anytime Paco was outside, someone had to watch him.
If we don't take Paco out in the yard, he paces, yowls and marks up the house. It stinks. I hate it. If it were my cat, I'd let him out and the heck with it.
But it's my son's. And Paco was his special gift and gave Chris the happiness to make it through the hard awkward time.
When the fateful fence climbing occured in December, I had a brainstorm (sort of like a stroke) and went to Home Depot and bought plastic chicken fence (I included the link in case you want to try this useless trick yourself!) - 36 inches high, and rigged up blocking sections on the climbing corners (has to be relatively branch free for Paco to climb). This work was effective - Paco couldn't get a grip on the pliable, small grid fencing - for all of eight hours, when Paco realized he could move to another area and climb up and out.
For a moment, I pictured rigging the whole perimeter in the fencing....
What was I doing???
I have to laugh at myself - or cry that I went this far without quitting. All this plotting, planning, devising, and designing for a fruitless, impossible mission, all to try to accommodate this animal - and my love of my son. I have no ground to mock ANYONE who obsesses about her pet, carries it in her purse, dresses it in Gucci, or hand makes the animal's dinner.
As some of you know, last week Paco got out. Chris was searching for the cat in our neighbor's yard (a frequent haunt) as I watched the exits.
Paco exited on a run.
I chased.
Paco sat quietly as I approached, but when I tried to pick him up, he bit my forearm (like, the WHOLE forearm in his mouth) and used his back claws to scratch me, then ran off.
Here is devotion (or thick-headedness) for you...
I ran AFTER the cat, clutching my bleeding, screaming arm - and when I caught up, I used my own version of "Dog Whisperer" voodoo techniques to quiet the cat, pick him up, and bring him in (Zsst! Zsst! Calm. Calm. Zsst!). Oddly enough, this worked! Why I don't have two bitten arms, I don't know.
I ended up with a deep tissue infection, antibiotics, a tetanus shot, and an overdue physical scheduled with my physician.
SOOO...You think I would have learned.
TODAY, during our half hour early out time, I went in to get a glass of tea (run in, get ice, pour tea, run out)...I see the cat's bottom going over the fence under the bougainvillea.
Bougainvillea, while beautiful, is covered with thorns. I'm NOT reaching in there.
However, I insanely reasoned that if I found the cat early in his forays, there would be no problems grabbing him up and bringing him home.
That HAD been true in the past.
It is NO longer true.
Within 5 minutes, I found Paco. Paco allowed me to pick him up. I carried him toward our house - as I approached the front door, he began to yowl and struggle.
I thought I had a good grip on him - but he is a strong, strong kitty.
He twisted, and yowled, and twisted and flipped...and I dropped him after he bit my belly, and scratched my arms.
To add insult to injury - more accurately to add injury to injury - Paco skittered about three feet from me, then attacked, biting the back of my leg before running off.
IT IS OVER.
This afternoon I'm talking with Christopher about Paco becoming an in and out cat.
I'm still worried about the fleas - but not about the territorial fights.
I'm pretty sure Paco can handle himself.
I unlocked the dog door (locked since December as Paco uses the door as easily as the dog)(we bought one of those high-pitched sound emitters to keep him from the dog door - made for cats, guaranteed. Can you say "she got her money back"?) and did not bother looking for the cat.
And, just this moment, as I finish this entry, Paco came in through the dog door, went straight to his bowl, finished his delayed breakfast, and curled up for a nap.
Cats rule.
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