Comeuppance pt. 2

Following on from Psycho Cat’s fun events on Monday night, he didn’t go out at all after dark last night. He’s OK going out in daylight, but whatever happened on Monday has definitely shaken the little git up a bit.

I don’t know if another cat has already marked our garden as it’s territory – in two months of being up at the place on a regular basis, I’ve never even seen another cat- but if so then we’re going to have battle royal at some point. As it is, though, it could equally have been something non-cat that had a go at him – whatever it was, it certainly scared the little sod. Which, in my opinion, is no bad thing – the psychotic bugger needed some humility battered into him at some point.

Comeuppance

Conventional wisdom dictates that when you move, if you have a cat you should spend at least a week, and preferably a fortnight with the cat confined to the house, so that it learns its new environment before being let out into the world, so that it knows where to come back to.

In our house, conventional wisdom takes a back-seat to sanity.

Last night, following two nights of continuous whining and yowling from Psycho Cat wanting to go out, we let him out. Well, I opened a window for him. He’s already been out for a couple of short forays into the garden (again, due to perpetual whining/yowling about wanting to be OUT.) – the forays were cut short due to huge dollops of rain/wind, which he wasn’t keen on.

Anyway, within minutes, there came the most godawful yowling from outside. My first thought was that Psycho Cat had jumped from the window onto the patio below, done something stupid, and broken a leg. That’s how bad the yowling was. Definite ‘cat in pain’. (The second thought was ‘shit, it’s half eleven on a Bank Holiday Monday, where the fuck are we going to find a vet’ and the third was ‘If he’s broken his leg, how the hell are we going to get him into his cage when he’s in pain? I’m not carrying the psychotic little shit in a blanket’) The noise continued while I got dressed to go outside and see what the hell was going on. (“got dressed” in this instance meant ‘put on trousers, t-shirt and boots’- which is probably more of a mental image than you needed.)

I got outside- still with the yowls- and hunted around. Turned out, Psycho Cat was hiding under the oil tank. When he decided it was ‘safe’, he dashed out, across the patio, and up through the still-open window. Filthy, of course. Herself closed up the windows and doors so he couldn’t get out again, and I had a look round the garden to see if anything else was visible. There were a couple of significant clumps of white fur around the place, but nothing else visible.

Going back inside, Psycho Cat was OK, but most definitely nervous and shaken up. Something had had a go at him, though, for sure. He’s had a couple of bites on his sides, and both front legs/paws have some damage to them – one was bleeding a bit, and he’s being delicate around the other. He’s OK in general, and we’ll keep an eye on the bites over the next few days.

As yet, we still don’t know what happened. We didn’t hear the noise of another cat at all, so it may have been something non-feline that had him. We’ve seen stoats in the vicinity (who could, I suppose, have seen him as a big white rabbit) and I’m quite certain there are foxes about, but I would have thought that a fox would’ve done more damage. And of course, it still could’ve been another cat- just one we didn’t hear. (Although usually you hear cats doing the territorial yowly thing before conflict actually happens) Whatever it was, though, it was bloody fierce. It kicked the crap out of a cat not known for being frightened of anything, and left him cowering under the oil tank.

Oh, and he didn’t leave the bed for the rest of the night, slept safe and warm between Herself and I.