The Cat IS the Hat

When the boys were little (see picture) I decided they should always live inside. I think I'd found one too many surprises in hay bales, and wanted them to live long, if dull, lives.

For months the plan worked well. They were happy chasing yarn balls and could spend a whole afternoon playing with a single sheet of tissue paper.

But, as they grew, the yarn balls lost their charm and a sheet of tissue lasted about 15 seconds. We learned their new games, which involved emptying the bookcases, patrolling tabletops and counters, and savaging innocent household objects . . .



The new plan is that they go out during the day and come in for the night. It's a simple plan, and it works pretty well most of the time. Even when the grass-seed field was being swathed, we thought it would be easy to keep them inside for a few hours. But it took until noon, while the boys suffered, hanging out by the door, complaining that we were sooooo mean. Their pitiful cries would have melted Voldemort's heart (if he had one). It wasn't a fun morning. The only peace was when I showed J and B a slender stream of water in the bathroom sink, which kept them busy for half and hour (and left lots of muddy little footprints for me to wipe up).

Even when we can let them out first thing in the morning, there are glitches. If Maybe hides in the back bedroom for a long afternoon nap, he's going to want to stay out all night. If Jerome is in at 8:30 or 9:00, he suddenly remembers a shrew carcass he needs to bring us. If Bungee's the only one inside at curfew, he'll put on his sweet-kitty look and volunteer for duty: "I know where they are! I'll get 'em quick! I promise I'll be right back!" Riiiiight....

Sometimes, if we're outside at dusk, we've been able to find them and bring them in without much fuss. Other nights, we've gone hunting, and found ourselves carrying one or two squirmers a long way back to the house. But then Bill (how?) came up with a hold that immobilizes/tranquilizes them. No writhing, no complaining; just placid acceptance - even purring:

The man's either a genius or seriously demented. Either way works for me!