The tissue issue

Houston, we have a problem. We are unable to leave our toilet door open because we fear for the safety of our toilet roll. We're getting through tonnes of the stuff because one of our cats can't keep his naughty little paws to himself.

This morning we went through two rolls in less than an hour. And I have to admit I was rather miffed. As soon as I walked into the dining room with the remains of a once pristine bottom wipe, he KNEW. HE KNEW HE WAS IN TROUBLE. HE KNEW HE'D BEEN RUMBLED. And I knew it was Sam because a rather smug looking Merry settled down for a snooze while Sam had that guilty cat face that only a guilty cat can have. And what do guilty cats do before you've even said a word??? They run. And boy did Sam run. I swear I hadn't even opened my mouth and he was out of that room and into his igloo. Basically it was a bad move on his part because I was able to put the ravaged toilet roll in front of him and say NO rather loudly a few times without him having anywhere to run*. Both Sam and Merry know the word NO. So hopefully Sam will have made the association. I somehow doubt it though :-(

*Please note: no cats were harmed in the disciplining of Samwise Wiggle-Bottom Huffer-Garstang.

Freedom!

(Pics: Sam isn't quite sure what to make of the snow.)

The day we've been dreading for six whole weeks arrived yesterday ... the day we finally let Sam and Merry out into the garden. We're not entirely sure they've ever had access to soil and grass before so we had no idea how they would react. Plus, we haven't yet got round to putting up a cat fence. Something that we've been discussing long and hard though.

Thankfully they didn't run off into the sunset in a cloud of dust like we imagined. In fact quite the opposite. Five minutes of gingerly sniffing the grass and nervously exploring the plants was quite enough for our un-intrepid pair before their nerves got the better of them.

This morning's foray into the outside world was slightly more successful, even thought the ground was covered in a layer of snow. After a little coaxing both cats ventured out and seemed more relaxed about exploring the garden. A minor incident where Merry climbed into the next door neighbour's garden only strengthened our resolve to get the cat fence erected.

We have to watch Merry. He seems to like eating anything that grows out of the ground. Last night when I got home from a girl's night out, The Boy reported that Merry had vomited in the bathroom (you've got to give that cat credit for vomiting on the wooden floor boards rather than the carpet) and it looked suspiciously like a regurgitated weeds. Now we're wondering if he simply has the cat version of Prader Willi Syndrome where he's compulsed to eat anything that's even vaguely edible ... or if he's actively trying to make himself sick for some reason unknown to us.

Interestingly enough, the original love-carrot (see earlier blog entry) disappeared without a trace. And given that it was falling apart at the seams, to the point where you could see its filling, it did cross my mind once or twice that Merry had eaten it. I recently discovered that cats have barbs on their tongues which point backwards. This means that when they get something soft and stringy like fur or TOY STUFFING on their tongues, they can't spit it out; they are FORCED to swallow it. Maybe, just maybe Merry did swallow that carrot. Accidentally. Maybe that's why he's been off his food a little bit lately too. And maybe that's why he's eating plants. Maybe we need some cat laxatives ...

Hmm, so much to worry about with these moggies. We could drive ourselves nuts with it.

Merry looking mighty relaxed ...

Sam: Snoozing and bird watching ...

Caged tigers ...

There's only one more week to go until Samwise and Merry are officially allowed out of the house. And we have a dilemma ...

... do we give them free rein to wander the neighbourhood and hope for the best? Or do we keep them confined to the garden?

Part of us wants them to have the freedom and space to wander and explore for the first time in their lives. But like all good cat parents, we're worried about the dangers that lie in wait: foxes, cars, cat thieves or worse ...

We have found a company that does cat proof fencing. They basically put a wooden pole along the top of the fence, so nothing can climb onto it without it spinning.

We've also read that it's possible to train Bengals to go for walks using a harness and lead. But I can't quite see that happening with Sam and Merry. Given how skitty they are, can you imagine the knots they'd tie themselves up in if they caught sight of a dog??!! Or if they bolted up The Boy's legs; their razor sharp claws digging deep into his crown jewels ...

What do we dooooooo?????

We've got six days to decide ...

Oh pooh!

The Boy and I were in quite a quandary this morning over whether to wipe Sam's bottom or not.

He's always had a 'smelly' bottom (to put it politely) not helped by the fact he loves to waft it in your face at every opportunity. And often leaves pooey little footprints here and there. But it seems to be getting worse. And we can't see why. We empty his litter tray twice a day. And he certainly doesn't appear to be suffering the squirts.

The Boy has, however, noticed that Sam's a little over zealous when it comes to covering his waste. He scrapes and scrapes and scrapes and scrapes ... this way and that way ... up and down ... backwards and forwards ... in and out ... until there's no longer a good sized lump of pooh, but lots of little chocolate raisin sized nuggets. He's bound to get the odd bit of poop stuck under his nails with that kind of enthusiasm.

Anyway ...

The Boy's parents are coming to stay this weekend so last night I decided to put Sam and Merry's blankets in the wash. I certainly didn't want the 'in laws' thinking our boys wallow in poop. 90 minutes later they came out of the washing machine looking as good as new. Thank you God.

Only ... when we came down this morning **HORROR** they were covered in more pooey footprints than ever before. And Sam, who was eyeballing a cosy little spot on our lovely white sofa, appeared to have a big splodge of pooh on his bum.

Hence the quandary about whether to wipe his bottom or not. We decided against it in the end. I don't think Sam would have seen it the same way we did.

I'm just dreading what I'll find when I get home tonight ...

Making a donation to the RSPCA is easy. Simply make your cheque out to the RSPCA and send it to: RSPCA Ashford Garden Cattery, 34 Station Road, Ashford, Kent, TN23 1PH

Ambush

Sam has got a new game. Sitting under one of the two sofas (you never know which) and ambushing your foot when you least expect it. Wouldn't be so bad if he didn't dig his claws in about 6 inches. Little bugger!