Thursday, January 12, 2012

Mr. Fluffy Pants Pays a Visit

The air in the house had gotten very stale.

Before some predicted cold weather snuck into the region, I decided to do something about it while the temperatures were still on the mild side, so I made my way through the house, systematically opening each window wide.

The cats, who react very differently to specific categories of events -- for example, yawning and going back to sleep as I flail while choking on a stale marshmallow or panicking and running away when I decide to make the bed or walk into the living room -- became very restless as I opened the windows.
Cookie: Who is he?

Was it that, acutely aware of the seasons, they were distressed at the opening of windows in the dead of winter?

Were they concerned by what it costs to heat a house? I share this concern and was touched that this might be the problem.

Cookie, in particular, seemed very stressed as the fresh air began to pour in. Was she cold? She's an old lady, but does sport a nice fur coat for just such an event. Second in agitation was Nifi who started to make those unearthly low-in-the-throat cat moans....
Nifi: I will teach that
vagabond a lesson!

Was the opening of the windows causing PTSD since, during the warmer months, none of the cats seem to be able to remember that there are no windowsills in this house yet consistently try to leap up and look out. This always causes an embarrassing fall back to earth as they bounce off the screen and scramble for their footing.
I don't care if he has balls.
I am more handsome.

Were the cats reacting to the cloying stink of the smoke from my neighbors wood stoves? The approaching change in the weather? The new cast of Dancing With the Stars? 

Why were they meowing and milling?

I checked the water bowl. Full. Same for their trough of food--plenty to nibble between naps and trips to the litter box.

Then I saw him...

A huge grey and white long-haired male cat I'd never seen before. Handsome and limber, he languidly plopped on the winter grass, unashamedly licking his kitty privates for all to see. His presence on the outside was causing great turmoil on the inside.

Making it clear to the males that he has the run of the neighborhood while they (minus their testicles, no less) are stuck inside and, providing feline beefcake for the girls, he stretched and groomed in the pale sunlight.

I had little choice but to close the windows but the cats were already pretty upset. In an attempt to distract them, brushings were given, there was lots of vigorous under-the-chin rubbing and, finally, catnip was distributed to all.

Getting the cats good and stoned seemed to banish the vision of Mr. Fluffy Pants flaunting his freedom outside our windows. I hope he's moved on by summer.
Sleeping it off.


  1. As the slave of two indoor/outdoor (ie I want in... no,no - I want out) cats, I am in awe that you CAN keep your mob inside. I need to know how to do that, because - though there id nothing here that will hurt them (other than cars/dogs) I would be happier if they were tucked up safe at home.
    I have it in me to feel sorry for Mr Fluffy Pants, who's people don't even love him enough to neuter him... XO

    1. It has been challenging, at times, to keep them in. Nifi, in particular, used to try to escape constantly but then he got bitten up by some foxes and was deathly ill...he no longer listens to the call of the wild.

      I'm not sure Mr. FP has a home....

  2. Replies
    1. Thank you so much, Denise! Thanks for stopping by!

  3. Why would you eat a stale marshmallow?

  4. Very funny. Pity the male cats who despite having their genitalia intact will still be picked on in the schoolyard for being a ... Nope I said I wouldn't go to the obvious place on this one.

    I'll have to feature my animals on a blog over at my place soon.


  5. Why don't you adopt Mr. Fluffy Pants too? That would make Cookie happy I bet.

    Funny post.

  6. I saw the picture of your gray kitty and just had to comment. He looked just like my precious Sigmund. He looks a great deal like a Russian blue. My Siggy was found by a river and brought to me. He was so full of fleas he had to be washed twice. He was amazing and even played fetch with me. He passed away last August at only 7. I loved him dearly and miss him still. I take in strays that would otherwise be put down. I am so happy that your little guy is alive and kicking and looks just perfectly darling.

  7. As someone who is wholeheartedly owned by her cats, this post made me chuckle that funny silent chuckle that makes it look like you're having a seizure.

    Catnip for all!