Bad Kitties!
The cats seem to know that they're in disgrace. They've been keeping a tactful distance all day, pestering me much less than usual for food and attention, and letting me shut them out of my office without protest.
They've been very bad kittens, and they know it.
My first inkling of trouble this morning was a loud and persistent scrabbling sound from downstairs. Mysterious noises from the ground floor nearly always mean feline mischief, and when those noises are particularly loud and unfamiliar, I can reasonably suspect some new and creative devilry. So, of course, I checked.
A good thing, too. Nickel was pawing at the music cabinet as though trying to get behind it, and I saw why when I got closer: one of the ventilation panels of Inigo's snake tank had been knocked out, and the snake was nowhere to be seen.
I concluded from Nickel's obsessive behavior that he had escaped her and was now lurking behind or under one of the cabinets. I dumped both cats unceremoniously in the laundry room and began looking for him.
Within moments, he emerged from behind the shoe cabinet. I was impressed; the timing suggested that he had decided it was safe and wise to come out just when it *was* safe and wise to come out. (Not bad for a critter with a brain about half the size of a peanut!) He let me pick him up without making any effort to hide again.
I don't know why, but I assumed that he had escaped unscathed, so I was shocked to notice that his tail was crumpled and he was bleeding.
Fortunately, there are vets in Austin who handle snakes. Now all I have to do is give him oral antibiotics for two weeks, and daily baths and ointment for a month, and with any luck he'll be good as new by the end of the summer.
Sigh. Bad kitties.
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