Fishing Expedition

About a month ago, one of the girls (I don't know, but I'm assuming Serena) discovered a new game. It's a relatively simple one: it only requires an inattentive human, a single front paw, and a drawer full of socks.

To understand the geography, the sock drawer in my dresser is the bottom-most one; since the dresser is on legs, this makes the top of the drawer just a bit higher than the cats. And, traditionally, I've been...well, not bad about closing my drawer, but not thorough. I would push it closed, but would generally wind up leaving an inch or two opening in it.

It's that gap the girls count on for their game, and it was the gap I inadvertently gave them today. I knew it immediately when I came home: there was a pair of my socks sitting on the couch. Then I noticed another pair on the bedroom door threshold. Following the trail, I found the mother lode—a cozy nest of socks in the middle of the bed.

See, here, as best I can figure, is the game: the little ladies make sure the gap in the sock drawer is sufficiently wide (pulling it open, I think, if it's not enough), then fishing in with their paws until they successfully hook themselves a pair of socks. Once they've got it, they pull it through the gap, drop it on the floor, then carry it off in their mouths. Then, when that pair's gotten boring, they can just go get themselves a new pair.

I might put forth a greater effort to stop this if it weren't so darned cute!

The Terror In the Bathroom

Okay, here's my hypothesis on why the cats are a) so fascinated with our bathroom, while being b) so twitchy-nervous about being in there.

We set the scene in our living room one dark and stormy night. The humans have gone to bed for the evening, which leaves the cats to hold down the fort. While Nuala sits on her kitty perch, Serena looks up at her, wide-eyed.

SERENA: I don't believe you, that's not really true!

NUALA: It is true. I saw it myself.

SERENA: Oh, you did not!

NUALA: It was a night much like this one. I was exploring the wet room, when suddenly it appeared. Giant and fierce it was, with claws that seemed to chase me wherever I went. I climbed and I dodged and I hid, but it did no good. And before I knew it...

SERENA: *gasp*

NUALA: ...before I knew it, the creature CAUGHT ME! I couldn't get away! It had me forever before I was able to trick it and get away. Don't you remember?

SERENA: I remember...a scent on you. But I thought it was just the humans?

NUALA: No. Much scarier than that.

SERENA: Do you think... Do you think it's still there?

NUALA: (a glint of mischeif in her eye) I dare you to find out.

SERENA: D–d–dare me?

NUALA: (leaping down from the cat perch) You want to know if it's still there, don't you?

SERENA: Well...yeees, but...

NUALA: So do it. Go into the wet room.

And thus was born the Terror In the Bathroom. Now you know...the rest of the story.

Nuala Digs the Dresden Dolls

Or at least, that's the only explanation I can come up with. See, last night, we put the Dresden Dolls CD on and, barely a minute or two into the first song, Nuala walked over to the stero, started sniffing at it, then stood up on her back paws (front paws leaning against the stereo) to investigate the CD player. When I asked her what she was doing she ran off, but shortly after that she was back at the stereo, once again trying to check out the CD player.

Weird, weird cat...

Pictures! We've got pictures!

Serena & Nuala
Originally uploaded by chronicide.

"What's that, Serena? You've let them take HOW MANY pictures of us?"

You can check out the whole batch here.

Balancing Act

On Friday night, the girls made a rare while-we-were-up appearance, and at one point Nuala decided to explore the bathroom. She's probably been in there before, but this is the first we'd seen of it. Peeking into the room, we saw her sitting in the bathtub, and I decided that that would be as good a time as any to try a bit of forced contact, as she was in a rare accessible position. I approached slowly and reached out to her. She hissed at me, as is normal, but I wasn't going to have any of it. As I got closer, though, she panicked. Seeking the only way she could get away from me, she dove for the corner of the tub and went behind the shower curtain.

If you've ever seen our apartment, you know that, when open, the bathroom door opens right up against the curtain, so I knew she wasn't going anywhere. Confused as to what she thought she'd accomplished, I lifted back the shower curtain—and she wasn't there. Jen and I looked at each other confusedly for a few second, then I checked behind the curtain again to see if maybe she was in the shadows, but still no dice. Where did she go? Then we saw it: a little kitty head poking up over the top of the door. Yes, she had climbed my bathrobe to get over the door in an attempt to get away.

There was only one problem, though: we were still there, so "over the door" still took her into our path. Determined to find an escape path, she continued her climb and stood on top of the door. This had now gone from cute to slightly worrisome. Sure, she would probably be fine, but what if she freaked and fell in an unfortunate manner. We started trying to goad her down. Unfortunately, she wasn't hearing it. If the door was blocked on one side, she figured, maybe her chances would be better on the other. So she turned and started stepping across to the shower curtain rod. Around about when she had her front paws on the rod, though, she seemed to realize that wasn't a practical idea.

So there we were, Jen and I standing there as we watched one of our young charges trying to balance herself in a gulf that could widen in a second if she acidentally set the door moving. There was only one thing to do. While I stood there watching Nuala and holding the door in place, Jen went and grabbed the two-step step ladder thing. Once she'd set it up, I climbed up there and grabbed the cat. Ooooh, she did not like that! Claws out, paws scrabbling, she grabbed at the shower rod, the door, the door frame—anything to get away from me!

Her efforts came to naught, though. I got her down and held her in my arms. For the next minute or two, I held her in my arms while Jen and I cooed at her and petted her. Then, when she started getting restless again, I slowly lowered her to the ground and let her go, at which point she promptly bolted. Serena, who had been calmly poking around the living room, came up to Nuala (once she was a safe distance from us) and gave her a quick "what happened to you?! sniff before the two of them returned to their nervous explorations.

Today, predictably, they have been better-hidden than normal: they don't seem to be in ANY of their known hiding spots. But I guess that's to be expected. It's just me and the girls tonight, so we'll see how we meet up tonight.

Ah, young cats are such fun!

Introducing the Girls

They came to live with us about a week ago. One of my coworkers knew that we were looking to adopt a pair of kittens, had noticed that a young stray in her neighborhood had just had a litter, and offered to try and catch these two cuties for us. We were a little reluctant to take on cats who'd had no domestication, but we agreed to it.

It took my coworker a little while to catch the kittens, but she finally caught them shortly before Thanksgiving. After that, she got them to the vet for a once-over, and then it was on to our place the Saturday after Turkey Day. And, oh!, never have you seen a more skittish pair. They were dropped off in a carrier case, and remained hidden in that case, huddled together in the very back, for the rest of the morning. We stepped out for a bit in the afternoon, and when we returned, the case was empty: The girls were loose in the house.

Since then it's been a bit of hide-and-seek with them: They find the little crevaces and hidey-holes in the apartment (the picture in the last post is them sitting on the baseboard radiator behind our CD shelves), staring at us when we look, hissing if we get too close, and only coming out when we're not around. Or at least, when they THINK we're not around. But they are coming out: the constantly-emptied food and water bowls (and the constantly-filled litter box) attest to that.

So they're getting used to us, and learning their way around our apartment and our world. It's just a matter of time...

Meet the Kitties

Nuala and Serena say "Hi." And wonder what the heck you're doing looking at them.