I just don't have the skills...

[bunn]

Further to the discussion about cats and keeping them in the house, I have failed. I just don't have the cat-fielding expertise.

We are still keeping the Bengals in at the moment, until we are sure they know where they live and are happy about it and won't wander off or get lost or anything.

A bloke just came to the door to talk about some hedges we want cut: I foolishly didn't properly close the inner door of the porch behind me before opening the front door to him, and both Bengals immediately bounced happily down the stairs and straight outside, even though it was pouring with rain!

Cue me and the nice hedge-man spending the next 20 minutes hunting happy Bengals through a soaking garden... They thought it was marvellous fun. My socks are wet now.

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[tena524.livejournal.com]

Our Sammy, a lovely dark red tabby & former stray, kept bolting for the door for about a year. It didn't do him much good most of the time, as it only got him as far as the front or rear building entrances, where there were more doors. However, he did manage to find his way *into a wall*.

This was in an apartment not well kept by the landlord. Some previous plumbing repair had involved breaking a hole into the lath-and-plaster wall under the kitchen sink, and it had never been patched. The kickplate under the cabinet disappeared long before I moved in, so there was easily room for a small cat to sneak into the under-sink cabinet. From there, into the hole, and up into the wall. And up, and up, and up. Eventually, we heard mewing up near the ceiling. I knew the upstairs neighbors didn't have pets, and the voice sounded familiar...

Having gotten up into the wall, Sammy had trouble turning around, and started calling for help. About the only thing I could do was to shine a flashlight into the hole in the wall and call for him. He eventually managed to turn himself (we could hear plaster bits falling inside the wall when he did so), and scramble back down. It took about an hour, and poor Sam was covered in plaster dust and cobwebs.

We put in another kickplate from a piece of scrap wood later that evening. Luckily, the catch on the cabinet door was quite sturdy, so he never managed a repeat performance.

My usual fielding challenge involves getting Jake into the carrier for his annual trip to the vet. I have a lovely set of scratches from this years performance, as well as a pair of punctures. This easily qualified as his worst-ever panic attack. It doen't help that he's small, sleek and quick. My other half finally donned a pair of long leather work gloves and popped him in. Somehow, none of the rest of the tribe have the same fear of confinement. They aren't happy about it, but don't really kick up a fuss.

My sympathies for your wet socks, nonetheless.

[bunn.livejournal.com]

When we moved to this house, we lost 2 of our cats for a day and a night. We finally worked out that they had climbed into the wall behind the toilet, and had wriggled their way under the floor of the guest bedroom. Luckily they came out again once they were hungry enough, rather dusty.

I don't know what they were doing under there, but it was quite noisy, and they seemed to greatly enjoy it!