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Old July 6th 09, 12:54 PM posted to rec.pets.cats.anecdotes
Magic Mood Jeep
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Posts: 928
Default Cat eating sofa.

"Yowie" wrote in message
Now that our hearts have calmed down...

Pickle is an indoor outdoor cat now. Generally he goes out in the
morning and usually returns after
an hour or two of making sure the place is safe and secure. He'll sit
patiently by the back door and wait until someone notices him to let him
back in. Sometimes he'll go out two or three times in one day (depending
on how willing folks are to give him door service, but he's always back
for dinner. *Always*.

Not yesterday.

Pickle didn't closely supervise Fluffy's dinner & bed routine as he
normally does if he's already in the house. Therefore I thought he was
still out. When it was time for the cats to have dinner (Fluffy has to
have hers first or she'll snarf up the cat food in preference) I opened
the back door to let Pickle in. He wasn't there. I called 'Pickle Pickle
Pickle Pickle' as I sometimes do. No luck.

(here's how I call Pickle:

On the off chance he was around the front instead, I went to the front
door and did the Pickle Siren Song. No Pickle.

Sometimes he's quite some way away and needs a few minutes to hurtle
back for dinner. So, I fed Suki & Shadow and tried again at both doors,
this time with the shaking crunchies box. No sign.

Pickle is not a stupid cat (unlike his brother) and I was reasonably
confident he had not got himself in too much trouble - it was cold
outside last night (all right, cold for *us*) and I figured perhaps he
had aldready holed up somewhere and didn't here me call. I hoped and
trusted that he'd be home the next morning.

Naturally I overslept this morning and didn't have time to do a search
for Pickle. Best I could do was call for him once (to no avail) and hop
in the car and go, bad hair day notwithstanding (now I remember why long
hair is better - even the worst bad hair day can be dealt with by a pony
tail). I rang Joel several times from work to see if Pickle had turned
up, and no, he hadn't.

I got home, shovelled down dinner and found a torch. Half an hour later
I had also found the appropriate sized batteries that still had a
charge, and went on a Pickle search up and down the street. I do realise
that I looked and sounded like an idiot calling "Pickle Pickle Pickle
Pickle" and shaking a kibble box up and down our street, but at least I
wasn't in daggy old flannel PJs and bunny slippers this time. Imagine a
grown woman with Kibble Box in one hand, PoohBear torch in the other,
(it was the only torch and battery combination that worked, and I had to
beg Cary for it) yelling at the top
of her lungs up and down the street. Not a pretty sight....

Still no Pickle. Joel and I were bemused by his absence and I was
starting to worry.

"SHHH! Wait! Whats that?" Joel said suddenly. He turned off the TV and
asked The Yowlet to be quiet. The TV was obligingly mute, but Cary of
course as not "WHY DADDY????" he yelled.

"I thought I heard Pickle... very faintly... he must be outside".

Out I dashed again with both torch and hope, only to be dissapointed
once more.

"Pickle Pickle Pickle Pickle" I called again.

"MUMMY?", The Yowlet questioned at the top of his very healthy lungs,

Both of us answered "SHHH! Be Quiet!"

Cary, thinking he was in trouble, started to cry, which of course,
entirely failed to help.

After calming the poor boy down, we explained we had to be super extra
special quiet because we were trying to hear Pickle meow. If it was Suki
or Shadow we wouldn't have this problem of course, because they are both
loud meowers. VERY loud. Suki because she's deaf and can't hear herself,
and Shadow, well, she just likes 'singing', particularly at 3am.... but
thats another story. Pickle on the other hand has a very quiet 'mi'
sound, barely more than a kitten's mew, even when he's *starving*. No
seranading his lady loves from the rooftops for him (even if he did
still have the bits that would make him want to)

Finally, after singing "Pickle Pickle Pickle Pickle" several more times,
I too heard the faint 'mi' of a Pickle meow. It sounded like it was
coming from...OMG! The Kitchen!

I raced to the kitchen and opened every cupboard and drawer, fully
expecting a very anoyed Pickle to leap out.


Perplexed, I called out once again, "Pickle Pickle Pickle Pickle".

The Fridge? Surely not.


"Pickle Pickle Pickle Pickle".

Again, a faint "Mi" from the general direction of the...

..of the sofa.



*Definately* coming from the sofa. But how?

Joel hopped up and removed the cushion and out popped a very relieved
stressed Pickle. He meowed his disgust once more and headed straight for
the door. I let him out and he ducked around the corner to do what a cat
must before heading straight back to the kibble bowl and wolfing down
last night's leftovers. He's now snoozing on my bed - a nice flat
surface not known for eating cats.

Now, I know that sofas often eat small change, and ours seems to have a
distinct predeliction for our remote controllers (particularly the A/C).
Ours also clearly favours pens, teaspoons and McDonald's fries, but a
fully grown *cat*? Surely not! But there it was, looking inconspicious,
was a tear in the fabric under the cushion, just big enough for an
overly curious cat to get through if he worked on it, but clearly not
big enough to get back out of when the cushion was pushed back, and
certainly not big enough when one or more of us was also lounging on
said cushion and blocking all exits.

Pickle, I am quite sure, is now down to 8 lives. And will no doubt be
very wary of vicious cat eating sofas from now on.

If you're paddling upstream in a canoe and a wheel falls off, how many
pancakes can you fit in a doghouse? None, icecream doesn't have bones.

And just where was the Beverage Warning on this???? Good thing I had left
my beverage in the other room, and my laptop only got a small spattering
of early-morning spittle when I read "but at least I wasn't in daggy old
flannel PJs and bunny slippers this time," (because THIS I could see in my
mind), instead of a full-on mouthful-of-caffeinated-beverage spew.

Oh, and when I read the subject line, I thought you were referring to a
cat eating your sofa....and I saw, in my mind's eye, a large white cat (I
know all 3 of yours are white) laying on a sofa arm, quietly nomming it in
protest of not getting his/her gooshey food....

^..^ This is Kitty. Copy and paste Kitty into your signature to help

wipe out Bunny's world domination.
The ONE and ONLY
in Bloomington! (And proud of it, too)
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