A Wild Week

Roommate and her family left Sunday morning to go on vacation. This whole time we have planned on me staying at the house while they were gone so that I could take care of the Lucy the Wonder Dog and the three cats, Puss in Boots, Patches, and Prissy. Last week, step-daughter added a baby chick to the mix. As I have said in previous posts, I was having serious doubts that the chick was going to make it. What a wild week it has been around that place. It all started Sunday night when Puss in Boots climbed the wall, rang the doorbell, and then ran into the house when I opened the door. That freaked me out because it was pretty late and I wasn't expecting anyone when I heard the doorbell ring. Monday night was a fairly normal night. Lucy, most obviously missing the family, was kind of clingy, but I enjoyed her company. She really is a good dog, and I love her so much. Tuesday morning when I left for work, I noticed that I didn't see Prissy anywhere, nor could I recall seeing her the day before. That worried me a little. She should be having kittens pretty soon and I was hoping that she was OK. Tuesday afternoon, I had leave work for a few minutes to run home to grab some things. When I got home, there was a stray cat on the porch. I've seen the cat before; the first time when Patches and Prissy were both in heat and the second time was last week when our friend's were working on Soldier's car. That night, this cat, I'll just name him Smokey because he's solid gray, wondered into the shop with us and wouldn't leave. I ran towards him several times, yet that never seemed to phase him. He just looked at me and stood his ground. I finally had to pick him up and throw him out. I gave him a pretty good fling (keep in mind that he's a good sized cat); had it been any other cat, they would have run off hissing and screaming. But not Smokey. So on Tuesday, when I saw him on the porch, I noticed that Patches was crouched down under the bench; they were in a stand-off of sorts. I walked on into the house, and then I heard the cat fight. I grabbed my things and ran outside. There was no way I was going to let Smokey hurt Patches. She's just had babies and they need their mommy. They came to a stop in the yard. I started towards them and Smokey just looked at me. I kicked at him and yelled at him a little, enough to scare off any other cat, and he just stood there. Then they ran under the porch. I picked up a little rock and threw it in his direction, and that made him mad. However, instead of coming after me, he went after Patches again. I got another rock and this time I aimed straight for him. It hit him, but not hard and there he went after her again. This time, I picked up a rock that had a little more weight to it, but I missed. By this point, they're on the back porch and Patches is freaking out. I am freaking out too; I was completely terrified that Smokey was about to kill her. I called Mr. Big in a panic. "Where are you?... You've got to get over here and shoot this cat!" He tried to calm me down by telling me that if he was going to kill her, he would have already done it. Then I panicked again. Prissy was still missing, and what about Patches' kittens? Big and I had made plans for him to come over for breakfast the next morning and he said he would shoot it then if it was still around. I hated to leave Patches all alone with the evil-devil-cat, but I had to get back to work. That night when I got home, they were still in a stand-off, and I only heard one cat-fight during the night. The Big Breakfast got called off because he had an appointment and I was sick. When I let Lucy out for a potty break, she went crazy going after Smokey. I had had enough of Smokey by this point, and I picked up a rock that weighed probably ten pounds. I chunked it at Smokey with all that I had, and hit him in the shoulder blade. It knocked him a little off-balance, but didn't seem to hurt him. Finally, Lucy chased him way off into the woods. Five minutes later, she was back, but I never saw Smokey again for the rest of the day. I called in to work to tell them I wasn't coming. I spent my sick day in the car with Cousin taking her oldest son back to his dad. When I got home that afternoon, I checked on the cats. They were fine, but still no Prissy. Lucy was good. Upstairs to check on the chic. Dead. Of course. Why wouldn't it die on my clock? Roommate had told me that she didn't really want to know about it, so I sent Soldier a text: "Chicken died. What do I do with it?" Reply: "Get rid of it. Bury it or something." That's what I did. I have never buried anything on my own before. I got the shovel out of Soldier's work trailer, dug a hole, and buried the chicken. Then Prissy showed up! Smokey was gone. No cat fights during the night. I woke up this morning and felt much better, and packed my stuff to go back to Cousin's. Roommate and her family were on their way back today. I haven't told her half of this stuff yet, but I'm sure she'll be amused. While I was gone to the bank today, she came by and dropped off my souvenir from her vacation. It's a maroon t-shirt that with a cow-girl on the back, and it says "Don't stand too close to me... I'll make you look bad." I love it. I'm gonna have to go back over there and get my boots so I can wear it tomorrow.