![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
I don't know why we keep the elephant, he never barks at burglars
Thursday, 1 July 2010 12:35 pmRemember how the Hobbit moved in with us? his plan for world domination was to be all adorable and orange and fluffy and go "prrrrp!" when you talked to him, and to appear to get on OK with the other cats, thus suckering us into adopting him. His True Colours (greed and bullying) turned up later. Now another cat seems to be re-trying a ninja version of his technique, upgrading "unthreatening" to "invisible". We now apparently have five cats. The fifth is a Stealth!Cat, a grey feline who has followed the simple procedure of spending his (or possibly her) entire time curled up asleep on one of the dining room chairs, neatly concealed under the table.
He/she could actually have been there for weeks or even months: I've probably seen him/her there several times, but I always assume it's Ounce, who's also grey and jumpy and thus practically indistinguishable in poor light or before my first cup of tea in the morning. When I feed our cats and turn my back, Stealth!Cat hops down and digs in; I see the movement out of the corner of my eye and think it's Ounce instead of registering it as an intruder. This comfortable illusion was rudely broken yesterday, when Ounce simultaneously strolled in from the other end of the kitchen and I went momentarily cross-eyed. The other cats are all confused and edgy about this, except Hobbit, who studiously looks the other way and whistles whenever Stealth!Cat manifests; I suspect he's been bought.
I have absolutely no idea what to do about this. The Great Ounce Guilt Trip Experience has conditioned me against the natural response, which is to dash madly at the intruder shouting and stamping my feet (a mental image I present free and gratis for the reader's amusement). We tried to dissuade Ounce via these methods before giving in and adopting him, and eight years down the line he still makes a point of running away from me the instant I walk into the kitchen, move suddenly, wear boots, breathe, or otherwise clearly threaten his existence. I simply can't bring myself to completely traumatise another feline and thus hoik up my ongoing guilt levels yet again. (In his supervillain lair, Ounce daily rubs his paws together and gives vent to the satisfied "Mwa ha ha ha" of a perfectly-executed psych). Tipping Stealth!Cat off the chair causes him/her to give me a look of pained reproach and slink out of the kitchen, but he/she has always re-materialised his/her little furry ninja ghost-butt back onto the chair if I check ten minutes later. Clearly word has Got Out and we are in the feline yellow pages as a Desirable Residence and Soft Touch.
Honestly, I don't know what we keep these cats for. They never bark at burglars, and they can't even police the place against their own furry kind. Damned dilettantes. Five cats is too many, it's heading into scary cat-lady territory, but I don't know what the hell to do about it. Anyone want a stealth!cat?
(My subject line, incidentally, courtesy of the perfectly delirious Goon Show episode in which Min and Henry keep an elephant, as well as leeches which are actually tigers. Round the World in 80 Days, that's it. Also notable for the unmistakeable sound effect of left-handed Rockhopper penguins attacking the front half of a Zeppelin over the international date line. With bugles.)
In other news, it's July, the Bulwer-Lyttons are out, and my most recent Microfic is completely frivolous. Then again, the topic was "Soup".
He/she could actually have been there for weeks or even months: I've probably seen him/her there several times, but I always assume it's Ounce, who's also grey and jumpy and thus practically indistinguishable in poor light or before my first cup of tea in the morning. When I feed our cats and turn my back, Stealth!Cat hops down and digs in; I see the movement out of the corner of my eye and think it's Ounce instead of registering it as an intruder. This comfortable illusion was rudely broken yesterday, when Ounce simultaneously strolled in from the other end of the kitchen and I went momentarily cross-eyed. The other cats are all confused and edgy about this, except Hobbit, who studiously looks the other way and whistles whenever Stealth!Cat manifests; I suspect he's been bought.
I have absolutely no idea what to do about this. The Great Ounce Guilt Trip Experience has conditioned me against the natural response, which is to dash madly at the intruder shouting and stamping my feet (a mental image I present free and gratis for the reader's amusement). We tried to dissuade Ounce via these methods before giving in and adopting him, and eight years down the line he still makes a point of running away from me the instant I walk into the kitchen, move suddenly, wear boots, breathe, or otherwise clearly threaten his existence. I simply can't bring myself to completely traumatise another feline and thus hoik up my ongoing guilt levels yet again. (In his supervillain lair, Ounce daily rubs his paws together and gives vent to the satisfied "Mwa ha ha ha" of a perfectly-executed psych). Tipping Stealth!Cat off the chair causes him/her to give me a look of pained reproach and slink out of the kitchen, but he/she has always re-materialised his/her little furry ninja ghost-butt back onto the chair if I check ten minutes later. Clearly word has Got Out and we are in the feline yellow pages as a Desirable Residence and Soft Touch.
Honestly, I don't know what we keep these cats for. They never bark at burglars, and they can't even police the place against their own furry kind. Damned dilettantes. Five cats is too many, it's heading into scary cat-lady territory, but I don't know what the hell to do about it. Anyone want a stealth!cat?
(My subject line, incidentally, courtesy of the perfectly delirious Goon Show episode in which Min and Henry keep an elephant, as well as leeches which are actually tigers. Round the World in 80 Days, that's it. Also notable for the unmistakeable sound effect of left-handed Rockhopper penguins attacking the front half of a Zeppelin over the international date line. With bugles.)
In other news, it's July, the Bulwer-Lyttons are out, and my most recent Microfic is completely frivolous. Then again, the topic was "Soup".
