Time for a timeout
After Target gets into trouble, he and Guido are kept indoors for 48 hours.
TARGET and Guido have an odd relationship with Charlie, one of the cats across the street.
Some days they’re fine. Charlie comes over into the garden, and lounges on our wall, enjoying the birds and the shrews playing around him. In return, my two go over to his place and eat his biscuits. From Charlie’s “parents”, we hear that their pet doesn’t mind at all.
Other days, they’re at each other’s throats. When Charlie comes over, his tail is fluffed, he’s growling at Target, and Guido shows more hackle than a wolf about to do battle. Or Target stomps over to a snoozing Charlie and screams at him.
Until recently we had no idea what causes these upsets. Our modus operandi was to haul in our pets and give them a timeout ranging from 10 minutes to an hour.
This week, everything escalated. Charlie and Target were screaming at each other for days. They were equally to blame, each deliberately invading each other’s personal space and yelling.
Boys, right? But as they’re both neutered and socialised, I couldn’t figure out what was going on.
Anyway, suddenly the two boys were in a tight clutch, growling and kicking. Charlie lost mouthfuls of fur around his neck and, in the struggle, Target was bashed against the pavement.
We split them and Charlie marched off looking OK, just a little shocked. But for a hideous five minutes, I thought Target had broken his paw. His right foot was at a strange angle and he was limping.
I didn’t want to make anything worse – and I know I’m prone to panic when it involves my little fuzzy – so I quietly walked him home.
Guido was already inside, shocked out of his habitual cool by the fight.
The second we were indoors, we locked the doors. A call to the vet told us we had an hour if this turned into an emergency. Then I sat with Target and rubbed his ears. To my immense relief, he curled up his sore paw and began cleaning his claws. You don’t do that with broken bones, so I started breathing again.
To be sure he was really OK, I touched the toes on his other front paw. “What about these?” I asked Target. My kitty is very suggestible so he cleaned those claws too. Then we did his back paws.
Twenty minutes later, and there was no ominous swelling or panting ( a sign of pain and stress). My naughty little warrior had a drink of water and settled down for a long purring nap.
I went outside and gave Charlie the onceover. He was fine and also purring. Reaction probably from the battle ( see sidebar).
Once I was certain everyone was all right, I read the “riot act”. I declared an end to unsupervised early morning walks and I put both my cats under house arrest for two days. “That will give you time to cool off,” I told the furries.
Regular checks on Target showed he was bruised but otherwise OK. Still, he was quiet for 48 hours.
Of course, Guido talked me into letting him out. However, I kept Target indoors, so when our junior cat saw the window closing behind him, he decided he needed to be back inside, too.
And out again. And in again. And out again. He’s a cat, and that’s a feline fun game that he never gets tired of.
House arrest ended yesterday, and after letting the cats out and watching them closely, I finally figured out what was going on.
There’s a massive cat down the street with a huge fluffy tail. He’s not neutered and he’s very aggressive.
I saw him marching up the street and all our cats instantly began growling. I sent Target and Guido indoors with a word but Charlie went for fluff tail. As they weren’t yet engaged in fighting, I managed to handclap the intruder back to his own space. Then I walked a furious Charlie home.
Now I know what’s been causing the hysteria. When cats become frightened, they go into battle mode. Unfortunately, cats aren’t sensible. They go a little crazy and act like Berserkers, the old Norse mercenaries who’d get high before a battle.
I know what’s causing the heightened tension but I’m not sure how to fix it. I’ll have to police my two pets more closely, and hopefully persuade fluffy tail to stay in his
own space. Charlie’s parents have been informed, too, so they can watch him.
As for our two, after I shut the door last night, our security light came on. Target and Guido looked out of the window, on high alert. When they realised it was just a bat or other beastie, they sighed with relief, gorged on tuna and then adopted the “four paws up” position of comfortable security on the sofa.
For cats like ours who are indoors at night but in and out all day, house arrest can be stressful. However, when there’s a feline hooligan out there, ready to pounce, Target and Guido admit there are advantages to having a locked door.
I have the feeling we’ll be looking at more time indoors.