security

I try to avoid regrets in life. I do. But if I’ve had one lingering regret, it’s probably that I didn’t provide the kiddo with a sibling or two. We’d have both enjoyed a larger family. On the other hand, I thank my lucky stars that I don’t have to spend a great deal of time mediating tedious fights between warring factions.

Except with the other children. That would be of the fur and feather variety.

I almost lost my dear little Stella last night, no thanks to a naughty little feline. Her name is Nelly. In her prior life, before I took her in, little Nelly spent a good deal of her time outdoors hunting things, quite successfully. All she really required from humans was some affection now and then, and periodic cover from cold nights. I love Miss Nelly, but we have a philosophical difference of opinion on the birds, whom I regard as my precious darlings. Not Nelly. She just sees fast food in front of her eyes. And a challenge.

I stepped away from the cage for one minute on a small errand. That minute was enough for Nelly to reach up and somehow pin Stella down on a corner perch through the bars of the birdcage and draw blood. Maybe more. Stella is gimping on a leg. I won’t know the extent of the damage until a couple more days observation. Thankfully, she is capable of flying and perching at present time, but she’s pretty stressed out and even takes to the nest for refuge, which is unusual for her.

I’m horrified. But not mad at Nelly. She is what she is. Which is a predator and a carnivore. Oh, and a conniving sneak. Neither felines nor finches are going anywhere, so I’ve been spending the morning racking my brain for a solution in which both the Furs and the Feathers can co-exist with no more harm coming to pass. If only Fort Knox were available for rent. Barring that, plexi-glass and squirt bottles are looking very attractive. Miss Bloodthirsty has been exiled to her bedroom until further notice.

But I hate sequestering her. This cannot be a permanent solution. It just wouldn’t do. In doing so, I’d be skating ohsoclose to ROZ TERRITORY. Actually, if you asked my own siblings, they’d probably opine that I’m aboard a screaming jet plane heading toward those parts, if I’m not already in residence. Yikes! Anyway, in this eccentric domain, six cats occupy at least three different areas of my mother’s house, seperately; never to interact, because Roz insists they cannot figure out a pecking order (or whatever hierarchy felines go by) and get along. She may be right. She’s got some hefty vet bills to make that case.

But though this arrangement may be one solution, it’s a highly inconvenient one that takes up much of my dear mother’s time and energy. It’s also caused some resentment among us all, because these felines are a dire consideration whenever my mother is invited anywhere that requires a suitcase. And all but two of the five of us live more than four hours away. None of her geriatric siblings wants to trundle up and down three flights of stairs in service to these cats while she’s away. So, unless it’s for a wedding or a funeral, she pretty much stays home so she can attend to all of the litter boxes and chow bowls.

I will not be Roz. I won’t. I have another half; a resourceful half. I am also the daughter of a man whom I’ve always felt would have been an awesome engineer if given the right opportunities, and dammit, I too can muster up some sort of clever solution; the kind my brilliant father would come up with upon a few seconds consideration. It might just take me a little while longer while I call up the dormant genes, wherever they are. Because I’m not going to let some six-pound-soaking-wet otherwise adorable furball outwit me. Nosiree.

I WILL PREVAIL.

After I get that squirt bottle.

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1 Response to “security”


  1. 1 Doktor Holocaust June 20, 2008 at 3:38 pm

    My mom has to do the pet-sequestering thing as well. She has a perfectly happy cat by the name of MIllie that had finally gotten to be top cat of the house because the other, former reigning feline dictator had passed away, and then, because MIllie didn’t like mom so much (she hung out with Dad when she wanted affection), Mom went and adopted some humongous dog that will not get along with the cat.

    Now the cat is isolated to some back bedroom, left to its own devices, and only visited for feeding and litterbox-cleaning.

    and next door to the cat room is the bird room, as mom has lost parrots to her beloved rambunctious canine companions before.


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