Cat Tale #11 Shifting Jessie

As I may have mentioned previously Thunderthighs cannot rest unless both cats are safely in.  This makes Midsummer a particularly stressful time as they (and I) see no reason why they shouldn’t be out when it’s daylight and warm. 

Thunderthighs would have the back door bolted after the six o’clock news.

 

Cat life has become even more interesting lately as 2 tabbies have moved into, or nearby, our street.  Jessie, with a lot of black, and beautiful big eyes lives at No 7.  There’s also a tom, bigger with more white bits, we don’t know his name. 

Jessie and Felix have frequent loud conversations about whose territory our garage roof, drive and garden actually is. 

He has seniority and longer residency. 

She has chutzpah and feist. 

Teddy, surprisingly, sits and spectates on the side lines.

 

The other afternoon I went out on the drive and Jessie was there. 

A friendly little cat, I said “hello”, she came over for a chat. 

Then there came a yowling from Felix who was sitting on our wheely bin and peering jealously around the corner of the kitchen wall. 

Jessie gave him some back chat, then noticed the tabby tom strolling along the pavement on the other side of the road and was off down our drive after him like a shot cock (as my Mother used to say). 

Teddy bemused and curious made to follow but gave up.

 

That night when Teddy was snoozing on the chaise longue and I was enjoying a g&t, Thunderthighs came in and threw himself sighing onto the armchair. 

I asked whether Felix was in.

“No”

Well when I’ve finished this I’ll go and call him.

 

We made sure Teddy was shut up in the living room, I picked up the bowl of rejected cat-food for the hedgehog’s supper, and went up the garden calling Felix all the way.

The response was a duet of yowling from the garden fence.

Our shared fence is mostly trellis but the shrubs, trees and greenery mean there’s only one good cat-sized hole in it at ground level.

Felix was on the other side of this hole.

Jessie was on our side of the hole, with her back to him, bocking his passage and determined not to move.

They were both making their feelings audible.

I asked, pleaded and ordered Jessie to move.

Nothing.

Thunderthighs fetched the bag of cat treats and shook them.

Still no movement.

So I sent him to fetch a sports bottle of water.

I warned her but to no avail.

So I squirted water at her rear end and she shifted, off and away behind the garage in a flash.

 

Unfortunately some of the water splashed back onto Felix so he retreated to the other side of next door’s garden.  No amount of pleading and treat bag shaking could make him shift;  he just sat there, upright, paws crossed, with a reproachful look on his face.

In the end I had to go upstairs and lean out of the back bedroom window to call him:  presumably that way he could be sure there was no danger of being watered. 

He came through the fence and he and Thunderthighs galloped back into the kitchen.

 

I came upstairs and related the saga to Fester soaking in the bath.

“Yes, I heard you talking to them” he says.

 

It’s no wonder some of our neighbours think we’re mad.