Big Boy is my problem child. So sweet, so 'wovable, and so troubled. He's afraid of everything, but, after a couple or so years with me, he's come to love and trust me. Or at least appear to.
But, about a week and a half ago, on a Tuesday evening, he got loose, and ran into the yard and hid. There was no reason for him to do this. Unless Conan the Destroyer messed with him, which might have happened. Conan had disappeared too. We had some wind, the front door blew open, and the other cats didn't run, they just stayed. I came out in the living room to find Conan and Big Boy gone.
Sigh. I was bummed.
But, Conan came back after a couple days of me rattling the cat food bag in the yard. He walked right up to me and I carried him inside, where he made a beeline for the food dish, I swear he wolfed down so much food so lustily he belched.
Big Boy was more reluctant.
I didn't know where he was. He'd gotten out before, when he leaned against a window screen I'd not installed properly. It took about 10 days to get him back.
So, that following Saturday, I spotted Big Boy right outside the kitchen window, looking lost, but safe and sound. I tried to coax him to me with some cat food and treats dropped into a metal bowl. Ting-ting-ting! He licked his chops, he went out and grabbed the goodies, but he wouldn't let me touch him, and darted back into his hiding place when I tried.
My younger brother had come to visit in mid-February, and Big Boy didn't want anything to do with him. He cried when I tried to introduce them. But, when my brother went to bed in the bedroom that I (and the cats) usually used, Big Boy would join me for a night-long cuddle on the living room couch. ("Flump" cuddle cuddle.)
AHA! Insight!
So, I got a pillow, a blanket from the bed (my brother had long gone home by then) and lay down on the ground about 12 feet (4 M) from Big Boy's hidey hole. And, I called to him, and, soon, his furry head poked out, and he called back, working his jaw, eyes yearning? Or hesitant? Or desperate?
I kept calling and tapping the ground, and he came up to me and lay down beside me with this foofly "flump" of relief, or joy or whatever, and I gently (feverishly) scooped him into my arms and hauled him inside. (He buried his head in my armpit as I kerflumped through the door.)
I set him down in front of the same food dish that Conan had feasted at, and he took a few nibbles, then made a beeline for his closet, and joined me in the bed at bedtime.
Home again. To stay, so far.
But, about a week and a half ago, on a Tuesday evening, he got loose, and ran into the yard and hid. There was no reason for him to do this. Unless Conan the Destroyer messed with him, which might have happened. Conan had disappeared too. We had some wind, the front door blew open, and the other cats didn't run, they just stayed. I came out in the living room to find Conan and Big Boy gone.
Sigh. I was bummed.
But, Conan came back after a couple days of me rattling the cat food bag in the yard. He walked right up to me and I carried him inside, where he made a beeline for the food dish, I swear he wolfed down so much food so lustily he belched.
Big Boy was more reluctant.
I didn't know where he was. He'd gotten out before, when he leaned against a window screen I'd not installed properly. It took about 10 days to get him back.
So, that following Saturday, I spotted Big Boy right outside the kitchen window, looking lost, but safe and sound. I tried to coax him to me with some cat food and treats dropped into a metal bowl. Ting-ting-ting! He licked his chops, he went out and grabbed the goodies, but he wouldn't let me touch him, and darted back into his hiding place when I tried.
My younger brother had come to visit in mid-February, and Big Boy didn't want anything to do with him. He cried when I tried to introduce them. But, when my brother went to bed in the bedroom that I (and the cats) usually used, Big Boy would join me for a night-long cuddle on the living room couch. ("Flump" cuddle cuddle.)
AHA! Insight!
So, I got a pillow, a blanket from the bed (my brother had long gone home by then) and lay down on the ground about 12 feet (4 M) from Big Boy's hidey hole. And, I called to him, and, soon, his furry head poked out, and he called back, working his jaw, eyes yearning? Or hesitant? Or desperate?
I kept calling and tapping the ground, and he came up to me and lay down beside me with this foofly "flump" of relief, or joy or whatever, and I gently (feverishly) scooped him into my arms and hauled him inside. (He buried his head in my armpit as I kerflumped through the door.)
I set him down in front of the same food dish that Conan had feasted at, and he took a few nibbles, then made a beeline for his closet, and joined me in the bed at bedtime.
Home again. To stay, so far.
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