JOURNAL 2: Chloe
April 18, 2000. Insanity strikes (again). I have a stray cat confined in my bathroom. Since I just bought a new vacuum, a new washer, a new dryer, and a new air conditioner, my budget and credit cards are stretched to the max. But I have a stray cat confined in my bathroom. Definitely insanity. In my defense, God put a cat in my backyard who looks exactly like what I have in mind, but don't find, every time I adopt a cat at the shelter. Was I really supposed to be able to resist a medium-haired, young cat with blue-eyed, seal-point Siamese coloring? And making it a bigfoot, with an extra toe on each front foot, was really dirty pool. So after failing to find an owner amongst neighbors, I've spent the evening on the floor in a doorway separating three hissing, growling cats and an excited Airedale.
April 19, 2000. I checked with the Humane Society and in the Lost and Found ads. No matches for her. So........the vet worked us in today. The doctor thinks "No Name" is around a year old. A fairly clean bill-of-health: the typical ear mites and fleas, but no feline leukaemia or obvious problems. We won't talk about the bill until later when I can do so without gasping in agony. So now on to the all-important naming process. Nothing I think of is clicking. A smart ass, not-an-animal-person friend, who thinks the amount I spend on critters is bizarre, suggested "Ka-Ching". And actually, I kinda like it. "Ching" has an oriental sound that would match her Siamese looks. I'll have to think on this. Now off to mediate a bonding session.
April 20, 2000. Until this evening, No Name has been content to live in the bathroom sink even when given the option to leave the room. This evening she got braver. She also knows the inside of my bedroom closet now. Phoebe is giving token hisses, but there's a "been here, gone through this" quality to them. Riley is enthusiastically attempting to make friends, but No Name seems to doubt that a huge dog who keeps shoving his nose in the sink with her can have good intentions. She hisses at him. Tucker appears to be the most affected. He is staying very far away. His eyes get huge when he catches a glimpse of her. And his hisses are very spirited. I've tried to remind him how it felt to join our household, but he's practicing selective hearing. Drat, I have to come up with a name.
April 21, 2000. Chloe. It fits. She's petite, feminine, and charming.
April 26, 2000. I feel like I missed my baby's first steps. When I left for Arizona for a few days, Tucker was still eyeing Chloe with great apprehension. Now they're chasing each other through the house. I'm sure I missed some interesting interaction. Phoebe is still hissing occasionally, but that's to be expected since she's getting a little crochety.
April 27, 2000. Chloe's an affectionate little thing, so Tuck's giving me the cold shoulder because of the attention I give her. I think it will all work out though. When I woke from a nap this afternoon, all three of them were in the bedroom with me.
April 28, 2000. I've seen Chloe walk past Riley a couple times apparently thinking he's sleeping. He doesn't make a move, just follows her with his eyes. Evidently he's learned sudden moves startle her.
April 29, 2000. I wonder if she will fill out to match her tail. It's like someone played pin the tail on the cat and got a larger cat's tail on Chloe.
April 30, 2000. Not to sound indelicate, but she's a gassy little thing. I'm hoping that a steady, good diet will solve that problem.
May 1, 2000. How could I have forgotten what boneless little piles of love young cats are?
May 4, 2000. Oh joy. I investigated INCP (Inexplicable Noises Caused by Pets) this morning to find Chloe and Tucker have discovered the pleasures of being on opposite sides of the shower curtain. Since Chloe still has her front claws, I'm wondering what shape the curtain will be in when I get home tonight.
May 6, 2000. Not only do I have five animals in my small house while I babysit for my sister's dog, but Chloe's prowling from window to window, especially at night, and meowing every ten seconds--no exaggeration. I'd never experienced a cat in heat (I'm assuming that's the problem), and I never want to again. I'm going to call the vet Monday to see if her spaying appointment can be moved forward from mid-month to next week. If I don't wring her neck first. The good part is, Tucker's my pal again.
May 7, 2000. She's gone. I don't believe it. Gone. My mind is totally boggled. That little five pound thing literally tore to shreds two screen windows to escape. The first time, I heard the INCP. I went into the bedroom just in time to catch a glimpse of her disappearing through a gaping hole in the screen. I managed to grab her by the tail in the yard, but she was thoroughly disgruntled and immediately headed for that window (which I had closed) again when I took her inside. It's hot, the new air conditioner isn't in yet, and all the windows are open. So I shut her in the bathroom which has a high window the cats have never noticed while I tried to figure out how to contain the cat from hell. When I checked to see if she had calmed down, she was gone. She found that window. And destroyed another screen. Truly unbelievable. I'm so glad it happened while I was home so Phoebe and Tucker didn't have a chance to use the escape hatch. Losing them in addition would've been very hard to handle.
May 9, 2000. I saw her leaping through the tall grass in the field next door last night when I was in the backyard with the dogs. But when I called her, the dogs started barking, and she climbed a tree. By the time I got them in the house out of the way, she had disappeared again.
May 10, 2000. It's been thunderstormy the last couple nights. I sure hope Chloe has a good hidey hole. I've thought of enlisting the neighborhood kids to capture her for me. But I couldn't really afford all her tests the first time, so a second time would be seriously insane.
10 May 00
