So there I was, pitted against a wily
beast.
A creature of such cunning, such
prowess I knew the odds were heavily against me.
But I refused to give up.
First, I tried sneaking up on the beast
from behind, but my ninja-like skills have been slowed by old age,
well middle age anyway, and the furred critter made good its escape.
Perhaps enticing the beast with food
would bring it close enough for me to get my hands it.
And then again, perhaps not.
Said beast remained just out of arms
reach, foiling an otherwise brilliant plan.
A few other attempts were made to grab
the wayward animal, but in the end I had to admit defeat.
I had been outsmarted and outmaneuvered
by a one-year-old cat.
Young Daughter wanted a pet of her own,
so a year ago we picked up a kitten.
Her name is Lisa, a.k.a. Little Cat,
and she is your typical cat that does typical cat things.
We decided she would be an outside cat,
so we let her explore the backyard in short stints and she seemed
fine with that because every little sound scared the snot out of her.
A bug farted and she sprinted for the
backdoor like a pack of wolves were after her. Sure it was pretty big
bug, but she is not exactly coming across as a fierce creature.
And I am OK with that as it should
improve her survival odds in the great outdoors.
And it's not like we live in the deep
forest or harsh jungle. We live in your typical suburban
neighbourhood mostly devoid of vicious predators.
There are, however, coyotes in the
surrounding hills and we occasionally hear them howling and yipping
at night.
And that is why I ended up spending a
good portion of my evening trying to herd a cat into the house.
It was near dark and Lisa bolted out
the back door as fast a cat can bolt, which all cat owners know is
pretty fast.
In a flash she was out the door and
down the stairs.
She jumped the fence and settled in our
neighbour's yard as my wife muttered some words under her breath
while watching Little Cat take off.
Not wanting Lisa to spend the night
outside, my wife made numerous attempts to corral the kitty back into
the house, but to no avail.
You know what they say about herding
cats?
Well, it's true. It is an impossible
task.
So with my wife stressed out and Young
Daughter having a slight meltdown at the prospect of her beloved
kitty surviving on her own through the night, I was asked to assist.
(Like I am some sort of cat-herding expert or something.)
I spent the next while trying to get
Little Cat into the house where there was no risk of coyotes, eagles,
cougars, polar bears or any other nasty chompers that might want to
have a snack before bedtime.
I tried to explain to everyone that
this is what outside cats do: they go outside. She will not have been
the first feline in history to spend the night outdoors and I had all
the confidence in the world there was a pretty good chance Lisa could
do it.
But to appease the Missus and Young
Daughter, I did my best to get Little Cat into the house.
However, as darkness enveloped the
land, I knew it was a lost cause and finally convinced everyone there
was nothing more we could do.
Reluctantly, everyone headed into the
house, leaving Lisa to her fate and all hoping she would return in
the morning – which she did.
As soon as the Missus got up, she
checked for Little Cat who was sitting at the back door with a very
proud look on hear face.
She had done it, she survived her first
night in the wilds of suburbia with out so much as a scratch.
The Missus was relieved, Young
Daughter, oh, hell, we were all relieved.
I learned a couple things that day:
Little Cat can make it on her own and it really is impossible to herd
a cat.
Copyright 2016, Darren Handschuh
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