There is absolutely nothing special about this cat. He's just a yellow tomcat that showed up one day, about six months ago, and refused to leave.
His name is Tigger and he loves to be petted.....anywhere. He is probably most fond of having his ears scratched, folded, rubbed or pulled but he even enjoys a good belly rub and doesn't bite the crap out of me on the third rub.
Tigger is a lover boy, but he's no warrior. It probably stems from the queen cat traumatizing him when he first made an appearance and he avoids confrontation at all costs.
I started putting both cats in my garage shop when the weather was so cold and now they both prefer to spend the night in there. I never thought it was possible to herd cats, but come dusk, if they've been outside for awhile, they are more than ready to get back under roof.
The other night I had a plan. My plan was to be in bed by 8 p.m., watch a bit of TV and get some much needed sleep. My decision to do an early morning paper route has not been one of my most brilliant ideas. I had been in bed about an hour or so and was just on that wonderful edge that hovers just before real sleep sets in. I usually discover I'm there when my eyes are still open, watching the glowing screen of the TV and hear myself snore. I've never been able to understand just how that happens.
Anyway, I'm perched on the edge of La La Land and all of a sudden the silence was broken by a death curdling scream. I bolted upright and knew exactly what it was. I'd left Tigger outside.
There is a feral tomcat, hanging around the neighborhood, and he has search and destroy mission when it comes to Tigger. He's already beat this cat up once and the fight was on again. I jumped out of bed, grabbed my robe and headed down the stairs.
Let me tell you about my robe. I have had this bathrobe for several years. I received it as a Christmas gift from my husband. When I said I wanted a robe the visual that was in my mind was one of those thick terry cloth ones. The kind you see in the spa advertisements, long, flowing, kind of sexy looking. Since I did not have my telepathy in tune when I told him I wanted a robe, he let the girls pick it out. What I ended up with was a robe that is just about as wide as it is long. It has large blue and white vertical stripes, the sleeves are three inches longer than my arms and it hits me just about mid calf. It has a sash that ties in the middle and when tied I also look like I'm as wide as I am tall. There is no picture of sensuality sexiness when adorned in the robe.
I get downstairs and flip on the outside lights. The feral cat is sitting on the railing around the deck and he bails as soon as he hears the door unlock. I can't see Tigger, but I know he's out there somewhere. That is when I realize I'm still barefoot. My shoes are upstairs, so I grab a pair of my husbands' that are right by the back door.
Let me tell you about these shoes. I purchased these shoes for my husband several years ago. I don't know what I was thinking because they are undoubtedly the ugliest shoes on the planet. They have no visual entertainment. They are just big brown clodhoppers. He never liked them either and only uses them if he needs to go outside briefly. When he wears them, he doesn't bother trying to get the entire shoe on his foot and has the back part, where the heel goes, mashed down flat. They now look like a pair of big brown clog clodhoppers. Perhaps they were pay back for the robe. These priceless ped adornments are also at least three sizes bigger than my feet.
I put on the big ugly brown shoes and plod my way out onto the deck. No Tigger. I call him and he answers, above my head.
When we added on to our house, I thought the back door looked rather bare and purchased an awning to go over it. It wasn't the square metal kind, this one was a half circle model and was covered in outdoor fabric. After it was installed, along with a nice light fixture on each side of the door, the girls thought it looked like an entrance to a bar & grill. It does, but I prefer to call it the bistro. It serves the purpose of providing some shelter if it's raining and it also provides a nice shock when you go out and slam the door after a good snow storm. If you don't wait for the snow to fall off the awning before taking another step, all the snow lands on your head and goes down the back of your neck. It also provides Tigger a safe haven in case of attack by feral cats.
Tigger was perched on top of the awning and was quite pleased to see me, but would not come down. I tried my best to talk him down, but it wasn't working. I walked to the far end of the deck and he simply followed me by jumping to the top of the pergola that is over the deck, about a foot away from the awning.
Even though it is officially spring time, the nights are still cold and the wind was coming out of the north. Yes, I could have left him out there because I knew he could get down on his own, but I also knew that I'd be up again to the screaming and howling within an hour. I had no choice but to get him down right then and there.
I went back into the house and got my step stool. It's the kind that allows you to get about three feet off the floor. It has a higher top step, but it's not for standing, it's more like a shelf. I drag the step stool out the door, unfold it and climb up to the third step. Oh, Tigger is really happy to see me now, but he stayed just out of reach. I tried to convince him to hop on my shoulder, but he was having none of that.
I wasn't near as happy as the cat, by this time and I came up with another idea. I moved the step stool closer to the railing, climbed back up and precariously stepped onto the railing still wearing the ugly brown clodhopper three sizes too big shoes. The wind was also whipping up under the bottom of the billowing five foot wide robe. Tigger was estatic that I was seemingly going to join him on high and finally made his way closer, close enough that I could grab him by the scruff of the neck.
So there I was, standing on the railing, 12 feet off the ground, dressed like a clown, one hand clinging to a pole and the other hand full of fur trying to pull a cat, that had turned into all claws bared and holding, off the awning. I finally got him free of the awning and he became all claws bared and holding, upside down on my robe.
I managed to get him down to the railing before I let him loose. I climbed down off the stool, Tigger walked all the way around the deck railing and met me at the top of the stairs. He happily hopped into my arms and I took him to the garage. As I plodded back to the house and up the steps, the clodhoppers fell off with each step.
Needless to say, by the time I got back to bed, I was far from the edge of La La Land.
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