Between You, Me and the Lamp Post
Day 74: Those two would test the patience of an angel
You’ve probably seen them on the road … dogs in booties, cats with a sweater on, or some other ridiculous outfit.
For starters, I’ve never understood how the owners of these pets managed to make their cat or dog keep those garments on.
Back when I was a kid, I spend the better part of an afternoon knitting socks for my cat, Pitoe. When the socks were finished, I put them on Pitoe’s paws, or shall I say … tried to put them on his paws. He was of the opinion that he didn’t need socks and he made that very clear. I was of the opinion that he did need socks and commandeered the situation with a great deal of perseverance.
In the process I ended up with more than one scratch, but in the end Pitoe had his socks on. Or so I thought. No sooner had I put Pitoe on the floor than he started shaking his paws … front left, front right, back left, back right … the socks went flying. So much for that idea.
Over the years I tried a few dress ups with my cats, but none of them were particularly thrilled with the idea, so no more of that nonsense.
However, now I’m having a change of heart.
Last night Halley and Greyson wanted to go out. They’re used to going out on the balcony. It’s understandable, they’re locked inside the apartment all day, so when we come home they can’t wait to get some fresh air.
Unfortunately, it’s no longer July when the air is warm, it’s October and the air is just a bit too fresh for me. When the balcony door is open, within no time the living room turns rather chilly. Not that the chilly temperature bothers Halley and Greyson. Take yesterday for instance.
As soon as we came home, Halley and Greyson took their position by the balcony door … they wanted out. Fine, they were let out. They jumped on the ledge of the (safety netted) balcony and looked at the construction workers down below, the cars that came and went in the parking lot, the pigeons and seagulls that swooped overhead, and the finches who came to peck at the bird food.
After a while I called them in but neither of them was willing. "Halley, Greyson, it’s cold, come inside!” I said with more urgency. They responded with a firm, no. “Fine,” I said, “knock when you want to come in.” Since it was getting cold in the living room I closed the door. Two minutes later Halley scratched at the glass, she wanted to come in, Greyson in her wake.
I opened the door, the two of them walked in, I closed the door.
Before long they wanted to go out again. I opened the door, they walked out, I closed the door.
When next I let them in, their paws and fur was cold. That’s when I started considering getting them each a sweater and some booties.
And so it went … in, out, in, out, in, out, in.
“You’re in and now you’re staying in,” I told them as I yet again had to get up to open and close the balcony door. When next Halley scratched to go out, I held firm. Enough was enough.
But I had reckoned without Halley’s determination. Now when she wanted out she didn’t just scratch the glass, she went into turbo overdrive. I lasted for less than one minute before getting up with an “Alright then, I’m coming.”
Eventually though I had to put a stop to this. When next she scratched to be let out, I got up. Not to let her out but to give her a piece of my mind. "Halley," I said, "this has to stop. You've been in and out all night. It's late, it's dark and it's cold. Now stop it and go to sleep!" And would you believe it, it worked. She turned tail and went to bed.
I should have yelled sooner.