How to freak your frankly-not-very-brave-anyway cat out
Finn, bless his little cotton paws, is not a brave cat. He's better than he was, but he's still absolutely worthy of the name "scaredy-cat". I haven't a clue why, I've had him since he was a kitten and as far as I'm aware he's never endured any terrible trauma, but the fact remains that at 7, he's still a big ol-coward. This evening, the following happened and because I like lists, it's in the form of one:
1. 11pm, I can still hear the rain pounding down outside and I do the automatic hourly paw check because it's getting close to cat flap lock down time anyway (my cats aren't allowed to stay out all night anymore).
2. I realise there are only 8 paws present and they belong to the girls, which means Finn, who often comes in absolutely dripping wet and seems not to mind the rain at all, is the one still out. Damn.
3. After three sessions of opening the back door and calling, I decide to go out into the garden with a torch and a big black umbrella. Finn doesn't go out of the garden and it's not all that big, he must be hiding.
4. I venture out into the deluge (not kidding there) and call him.
5. Halfway up the garden I catch movement to one side, it's Finn, heading for the open back door.
6. I scoot in after him so he can't change his mind and run back outside, umbrella held to one side, glad I'd shut the kitchen door so the other two couldn't try to get out.
7. Once through the back door, I pause and watch my cat completely and utterly lose his mind at the sight of the umbrella, we're talking yelling blue murder and trying every which way to escape, tail fuzzed (no mean feat as wet as he was), eyes huge. He tries to dart past me and I block his escape route with the umbrella out of reflex, which only makes the whole situation worse as he tries to climb the closed kitchen door and starts wailing like I'm trying to murder him.
8. I hurriedly try to shut the stupid, broken old umbrella, since that's obviously what's upsetting him and the bloody thing fights me all the way. I get it down eventually while my cat seeks a way of escape by any means and when I get the kitchen door open, rockets through, heading for my bedroom to go continue panicking under the bed in peace.
*sigh* It was completely my fault, I appeared behind him suddenly with what was clearly a rabid cat-eating umbrella and I had blocked his only means of escape. Clearly, freaking out to the point of hysteria was absolutely called for. I mean, just because he's paranoid doesn't mean the world isn't out to get him. Silly cat. I still feel terrible though.
Time to go apologise to the shaking, shedding mess of feline hiding under my bed. Again.
1. 11pm, I can still hear the rain pounding down outside and I do the automatic hourly paw check because it's getting close to cat flap lock down time anyway (my cats aren't allowed to stay out all night anymore).
2. I realise there are only 8 paws present and they belong to the girls, which means Finn, who often comes in absolutely dripping wet and seems not to mind the rain at all, is the one still out. Damn.
3. After three sessions of opening the back door and calling, I decide to go out into the garden with a torch and a big black umbrella. Finn doesn't go out of the garden and it's not all that big, he must be hiding.
4. I venture out into the deluge (not kidding there) and call him.
5. Halfway up the garden I catch movement to one side, it's Finn, heading for the open back door.
6. I scoot in after him so he can't change his mind and run back outside, umbrella held to one side, glad I'd shut the kitchen door so the other two couldn't try to get out.
7. Once through the back door, I pause and watch my cat completely and utterly lose his mind at the sight of the umbrella, we're talking yelling blue murder and trying every which way to escape, tail fuzzed (no mean feat as wet as he was), eyes huge. He tries to dart past me and I block his escape route with the umbrella out of reflex, which only makes the whole situation worse as he tries to climb the closed kitchen door and starts wailing like I'm trying to murder him.
8. I hurriedly try to shut the stupid, broken old umbrella, since that's obviously what's upsetting him and the bloody thing fights me all the way. I get it down eventually while my cat seeks a way of escape by any means and when I get the kitchen door open, rockets through, heading for my bedroom to go continue panicking under the bed in peace.
*sigh* It was completely my fault, I appeared behind him suddenly with what was clearly a rabid cat-eating umbrella and I had blocked his only means of escape. Clearly, freaking out to the point of hysteria was absolutely called for. I mean, just because he's paranoid doesn't mean the world isn't out to get him. Silly cat. I still feel terrible though.
Time to go apologise to the shaking, shedding mess of feline hiding under my bed. Again.