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| Ezy now, whats we gots in da pockets, eh? |
The chip-munks were a riot, and one of the better parts of that hike above Lake Louise was seeing them in the photos, 'cause they're mostly too fast to appreciate in person. It's what animals do to people that really makes me grin.
From going all mushy at a kitten or puppy to putting dogs in baby carriages while owners go on walks, I get giggles from people reacting to what they now call companion animals (surely an upgrade from mere "pets.")
And owner behavior includes my own.
Just yesterday, I asked a worker to help me get a glass tabletop down the stairs to my basement apartment. The very nice young man was inside helping me get it settled firmly on the tricky base (from a thrift store, so a few blemishes to work out) when I spotted my indoor cats (well, Cowboy used to be outdoor until his last vet bill for a mangled front claw topped $500) edging toward the open door. By the time I got to them, they were in the backyard - which is a bombsite because the owner is expanding and there are piles of wood, rocks and debris everywhere. The two dogs were barking their heads off in their kennel and when I added my orders to get back indoors, the kitties scrambled.
I got Cowboy back, he's 16 and happy to stay near food and water these days, but middle-aged Miss Kitty vanished as fast as Mr Mistophoeles.
I was stricken. I searched in vain for her black tiger stripes in the rubble. Looked over the neighbor fences. We are a mountain community and yards filled with native plants instead of mown lawns made this a bit insane, but I tried. In desperation, I crammed Cowboy in his harness and took him out as a lure. No dice. As he is suitably slow at 107, I picked him up and walked him around the neighborhood to where I would have run had the dogs panicked me. He enjoyed the outing, but was useless as far as attracting Miss Kitty. I was spotted by neighbors who wondered if I'd gotten a puppy and was carrying it around -- or was just deranged.
Trying not to cry, I remembered the time Cowboy escaped from a screen window and stayed gone for three days. He finally returned, much the worse for wear, and meowled at the door. She'll come back, I told myself. But a dark voice replied: The dogs bark all the time, she won't come near the yard. And she lives in cougar country, much bigger and way meaner. I protested: Someone will find her and take her in. My negative side just cackled: And keep her, since she has no collar,
No collar, I thought, but she has a microchip!
But I hadn't updated her microchip information - yikes. I grabbed Cowboy and took off for home, creating even more fodder for the gossips gandering at my odd behavior.
I spent an hour finding the websites for the kitties, since they had different microchips. I'd saved the letters with the tag numbers, one so old it didn't then have a website. I navigated the most confusing conglomeration of sites ever and it took forever to find one that had a member login window, but I finally got them both updated. Whew!
The triumph was shortlived as dark thoughts of cougars and cars (she didn't even know how to cross a street!) and winter coming any day and kind people who would think her a stray and keep her (the best scenario, for her) flooded my mind.
Tears flew and I blamed once free Cowboy who had lured her outside where she has never been comfortable. He looked remarkably sanguine and innocent and content -- how could he? - when with a hop, Miss Kitty jumped out from behind the bookcase, where I had looked for and not seen her: innocent, no longer afraid and fresh after her three-hour snooze.
I had entertained the neighbors, given Cowboy a refreshing outing and updated the info on the kitties' microchips. As the companion of a companion animal: pretty normal behavior.
I hold a grudge against Cowboy: he knew all along she was there, all he had to do was tell me.
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| Is Miss Kitty laughing at me or think she's still hiding from the big scary dogs? |
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