Bad Cat Land
Eliot is in danger of losing his very life. He is in so much trouble, I can't even begin to tell you...
I will also forgive anyone who laughs at me ahead of time.
I finally bought some beautiful new parlor furniture a year ago. It's covered in microsuede (after all, I have three kids and clumsy relatives). I had my parlor: a place where I could actually invite people to come on in and sit down, a place where toys and books and tools and clothing did not rule, a calm place to read a book or talk.
A few months ago, Eliot, who is 16 years old, had an "accident" on the chair and the upholstered ottoman. I was angry and upset, but cleaned it up and forgave him. Eliot was thoroughly examined by our fabulous vet; I was advised to buy a cleaner with enzymes as the first or second ingredient, and to put mothballs under the cushions. I took the plastic liner out of his litter box and put bubble wrap on the top of the furniture. All was well.
Then another accident. Then another. Each piece of furniture was now marked. Eliot spent some time visiting our furnace, water softener and humidifier in the cellar. He spent some time locked in the washroom. I left aHalloween spider out that made noise when moved. Now there were mothballs ON TOP of the cushions. This seemed to work for a few months.
On Monday, Eliot jumped on to the couch, sat between two cushions, and had a marking fest. I discovered this when I came home from school because the odor, despite the mothballs, is potent. It's really really lucky for Eliot that we don't have guns in our house. I decided that was it and I would put Eliot to sleep. Who would want to have an old tomcat who pees on microsuede?
There was wailing and gnashing of teeth in the house of Calderoni. Begging, pleading, tears...I couldn't take it. The kids convinced me to ask my cousin Mary Jo if she would put Eliot in her barn with her barncats and the cows. Mary Jo reluctantly said that Eliot would be killed by the barn cats...they were quite terrotorial, and Eliot does not have front claws. So much for that. Mary Jo was quite sympathetic, having had a Bad Cat experience of her own.
OK...so I can't put him on the farm, and I can't put him down. Now what?
THE GATE
Since Eliot has no problems except for marking the microsuede furniture, we purchased a gate to put on our steps to pen Eliot in to the den (where we spend most of our time) and where the furniture was not too tempting. I warned the kids that if he just "happens" to get out because they did not close the gate, he would be done. Fini. Kaput.
We'll see what happens.
The furniture will be cleaned Saturday at 9 am. Wish me luck...and Eliot a longer life.
I will also forgive anyone who laughs at me ahead of time.
I finally bought some beautiful new parlor furniture a year ago. It's covered in microsuede (after all, I have three kids and clumsy relatives). I had my parlor: a place where I could actually invite people to come on in and sit down, a place where toys and books and tools and clothing did not rule, a calm place to read a book or talk.
A few months ago, Eliot, who is 16 years old, had an "accident" on the chair and the upholstered ottoman. I was angry and upset, but cleaned it up and forgave him. Eliot was thoroughly examined by our fabulous vet; I was advised to buy a cleaner with enzymes as the first or second ingredient, and to put mothballs under the cushions. I took the plastic liner out of his litter box and put bubble wrap on the top of the furniture. All was well.
Then another accident. Then another. Each piece of furniture was now marked. Eliot spent some time visiting our furnace, water softener and humidifier in the cellar. He spent some time locked in the washroom. I left aHalloween spider out that made noise when moved. Now there were mothballs ON TOP of the cushions. This seemed to work for a few months.
On Monday, Eliot jumped on to the couch, sat between two cushions, and had a marking fest. I discovered this when I came home from school because the odor, despite the mothballs, is potent. It's really really lucky for Eliot that we don't have guns in our house. I decided that was it and I would put Eliot to sleep. Who would want to have an old tomcat who pees on microsuede?
There was wailing and gnashing of teeth in the house of Calderoni. Begging, pleading, tears...I couldn't take it. The kids convinced me to ask my cousin Mary Jo if she would put Eliot in her barn with her barncats and the cows. Mary Jo reluctantly said that Eliot would be killed by the barn cats...they were quite terrotorial, and Eliot does not have front claws. So much for that. Mary Jo was quite sympathetic, having had a Bad Cat experience of her own.
OK...so I can't put him on the farm, and I can't put him down. Now what?
THE GATE
Since Eliot has no problems except for marking the microsuede furniture, we purchased a gate to put on our steps to pen Eliot in to the den (where we spend most of our time) and where the furniture was not too tempting. I warned the kids that if he just "happens" to get out because they did not close the gate, he would be done. Fini. Kaput.
We'll see what happens.
The furniture will be cleaned Saturday at 9 am. Wish me luck...and Eliot a longer life.
posted by Reading Reader | 2:22 PM
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