Cat War

Spoiler Alert: Cat lovers may not want to read this post!

I don't like cats, but cats seem to like me. I don't mind petting them, but I don't want to take care of them. One friend had a cat that let me pet her and she was purring and everything then she hauled off and bit me. Little fucker.

I lived with a guy who had a cat. That was a real test of my feelings for him, I tell you. We moved and the cat didn't want to leave the old place, so we left without him. Everyday the boyfriend went back to the old place hoping the cat would change his mind. Eventually he was able to coerce the cat into moving into the new place. The cat hated the new place and showed it by shitting on every possible surface. We fought back by locking him in the basement. The cat shat on every single inch of the basement floor. I was ready to move. Ultimately I did, leaving the cat and the guy, but that's another story.

In my current neighborhood there are feral cats. Every house on the block has a set of cats that has adopted it. "Ours" have several generations of cats, most of them born under our house. They always manage to get past the screens and bricks that I've used to keep them out. Crafty little rascals.

One year we bought new patio furniture. Lovely plush cushions that the cats thought we bought just for them. Everyday we would come out to see the burnt orange cushions covered with long white cat hair and fur balls. I was pissed. When I would catch a cat in the act, I would shoo them away and they would skulk off with a bad attitude. Little fuckers.

The cats walk by our windows and peer in. Earl thinks the original momma cat belonged to the previous owners and was left behind. Momma cat looks into our French doors like she wants to come inside. Like she belongs inside.  I think she's in kitty heaven now. We only see her kids these days.

I tried a water gun on them. That was kinda fun. A friend who knew I was in a battle with the cats gifted me with an air gun that shoots hard foam balls. That was kicks for me, not so much for the cats. I bought powdered coyote urine online. The cats were not fooled. Earl, the hubby, says they knew there were no coyotes in this area. Um, turns out years later maybe there are coyotes in the neighborhood. Evidenced by the gutted cat on our front lawn a few months ago. But at the time we had not seen any coyotes.

I don't want the cats to be whacked, I just want them to stay off our patio furniture. So we bought these fancy furniture covers. Very successful in keeping the cats off the furniture. Wait for it, wait for it...one day Earl was sweeping the patio and removing the furniture covers for the coming summer. I was watching from inside when I saw him jump back from one of the lounge chairs. Earl never jumps back from anything. I knew something was horribly wrong. Then I saw that he jumped back from a possum standing on its hind legs, hissing at him. I screamed bloody murder!

Earl lunged at the possum with the broom. The possum hissed back. (I'm getting creeped out as I recount this,< shudder>!) Earl pushed the possum off the chair with the broom. The possum jumped under the cover on the next chair. This is not the solution we were looking for. I'm still inside screaming. I hate fucking possums. They look like giant rats.

Earl ripped the cover off the second chair and the possum is still hissing at him. I'm still inside screaming. Earl swept him off the second chair and he slunk away. Yikes. The possum left behind, in both chairs, which lead us to believe he had a partner in crime, scuzzy nests of leaves, branches, hair and possum funk. They had spent the winter under the nice, toasty furniture covers.

Earl commenced to hosing and bleaching and disinfecting the chairs. I didn't sit in either of them for more than a year.

But back to the cat war. They were still using our patio furniture as if it were their very own. I tried cat repellant spray from the garden store. Fabreeze worked for a while. Another friend offered some sticky tape that smelled of anti-cat. The cats loved it. In my travels, I'd noticed spike strips on top of buildings and billboards that keep away pigeons. I thought that would be a good idea for keeping away pesky cats. I went to the craft store to buy foam pads, and to the hardware store for nails, to poke through the foam.

I just knew this was the perfect solution. It was not. The cats laid on the pads and the nails laid down like wet hair. Sometimes the cats just moved the pads and laid down in a corner of the seat cushion. I'm steamed. I thought the pads needed more nails. I doubled the number of nails in each pad. That worked briefly. Then the rains came and the nails rusted. The cats found somewhere else to be.

Over time, I decided I'd wasted too much energy on this futile war. Winter arrived and I felt sorry for the surviving cats. I looked into the eyes of a cat that was crouching under the eaves at the front of our house and he looked so pitiful. I didn't shoo him away. I told him to stay dry.

Now the cats and I have a truce. I don't bother them and they stay the fuck off our patio furniture.

I've been waiting to post this story until I had a pic of the cat looking into our window like he does every morning. Now that I'm waiting for the cat, he's been a no show for the past three days. What the Halle Berry??