I live out in the country. In addition to my indoor fur children, there are 5 outdoor fur beings that I feed twice a day on my porch.. A couple of them were feral at one point, some just appeared and never left. One of them is a stocky, no-neck tuxedo tabby who I named Guido. If he was a person he'd be the big no-neck mafia body guard. He appeared as a kitten and was an indoor cat for awhile. When he started to mature he developed an aggression disorder. His eyes would dilate, he'd growl real low and then attack whatever what closest to him-human, cat, furniture, etc. This was a "kill the prey" sort of attack and these spurts would just happen. After getting him fixed and trying weekly estrogen shots at the vets suggestion, nothing worked. So I decided he could become an outdoor cat, which he seems to like much better. Occasionally he tries to rush the door to come in when I open it.

One evening I was in the kitchen doing the dishes when I heard Kylie growling, like there was something in HER house that wasn't supposed to be there. I dry my hands and turn around to see Guido zip across the kitchen floor into the utility room where the cat food is. I check the door, the windows, etc and nothing is open. Completely puzzled as to how he got into the house I pick him up and take him outside.

A few nights later I'm sitting on the couch petting Kylie and watching TV. Suddenly Kylie sits up straight, ears up, looking intently over then end of the couch. I don't see anything there and assume it's an invasion of space mice. A couple minutes later Kylie jumps off the couch and hunkers down next to livingroom heating vent in the middle of the floor. I don't pay much attention until I hear her hiss and then hear a vaguely familiar growl in return. I stand up just in time to see Kylie arch into Halloween cat position as the grate to the floor vent rises up out of the floor powered by Guido's head. He keep pushing until he gets the grate up enough to squirm out of the vent and makes a beeline for the cat food. Kylie is completely indignant. I'm laughing too hard to do anything for a minute, then I retrieve Guido from the utility room and take him back outside.

We go through a couple more rounds of this as I keep trying to find a place to screw the grate down that Guido can't push back up. He's a strong boy and manages to push the grate out no matter how I screw it back in. Finally I give up on screwing the grate in and put the only thing I can find that's heavy enough to keep Guido out over the end of the grate, a brick. Now he uses the heating duct to register his displeasure at not being fed on time. He climbs up in the duct and thumps around yowling until I refill the porch bowl.

Copyright © Raven Tompkins
March 3, 2001