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Dec. 5th, 2004 02:47 amOh, the joys of dial-up. As it turned out, I had worse demons waiting for me. To save him from being destroyed, I caved and let Megan take in a de-clawed tom that'd shown up at a friends how. Said friend already has three, friend's mother has three, all six of which still have all their claws. None of the others in the circle of friends have room or can take another in... and my views on the destruction of innocent fuzzles are strong enough to make me flex my never again stance on cats.
Except that this cat, after having been abandoned outside for at least a couple weeks and then another week with the full run of H's basement, is singularly upset at being contained within Megan's bedroom. He's spent extremely large chunks of the last nine hours yowling his damned head off and clawing at every door/window/might-be-an-exit in her room. Five hours ago, Megan converted one of the overlarge packing totes into a surprisingly comfy den for him... which until I picked him up bodily and set him inside, he'd not even deigned to acknowledge. The 'tap on the head' technique that'd worked so well with the cat I used to have (named Mister, after he responded to the query of 'And where do you think YOU are going, mister?') gets ignored. Dorian (this de-clawed very-orange tom) is amazingly gentle natured; each tap gets nuzzled and licked. As long as someone's paying specific attention to him, he's mostly okay. Turn the lights out and he's right back to the one fuzzle symphony.
The choices for this furry ball of noise are not real appetizing:
But Megan requires far more sleep for 'barely functional' than I do. Should he continue his operatic career, he'll -have- to leave. *sigh* I need answers besides a shelter, darlings. If you've got 'em, pony up.
( Quizzie weirdness... )
Other than that, there's not a lot going on. I'm trying to rig up enough machine noise or white noise to drown Dorian out, because I need sleep pretty desperately. I have to go and try to rip through the remaining boxes in the addition tomorrow...
Except that this cat, after having been abandoned outside for at least a couple weeks and then another week with the full run of H's basement, is singularly upset at being contained within Megan's bedroom. He's spent extremely large chunks of the last nine hours yowling his damned head off and clawing at every door/window/might-be-an-exit in her room. Five hours ago, Megan converted one of the overlarge packing totes into a surprisingly comfy den for him... which until I picked him up bodily and set him inside, he'd not even deigned to acknowledge. The 'tap on the head' technique that'd worked so well with the cat I used to have (named Mister, after he responded to the query of 'And where do you think YOU are going, mister?') gets ignored. Dorian (this de-clawed very-orange tom) is amazingly gentle natured; each tap gets nuzzled and licked. As long as someone's paying specific attention to him, he's mostly okay. Turn the lights out and he's right back to the one fuzzle symphony.
The choices for this furry ball of noise are not real appetizing:
- Pray that he settles down after a night to get used to his new digs (the operating plan at present)
- Find a cat lover with room and time for a codependent de-clawed ball of orange fur (not likely, as most everyone I know is up to their eyeballs in cats already)
- Take him to the pound ourselves. Just contemplating that makes me nauseaus, because I know exactly what that'll mean for him. :(
But Megan requires far more sleep for 'barely functional' than I do. Should he continue his operatic career, he'll -have- to leave. *sigh* I need answers besides a shelter, darlings. If you've got 'em, pony up.
( Quizzie weirdness... )
Other than that, there's not a lot going on. I'm trying to rig up enough machine noise or white noise to drown Dorian out, because I need sleep pretty desperately. I have to go and try to rip through the remaining boxes in the addition tomorrow...
