Well, I finally won. Marcel is immunized against rabies for the next three years. He’s also minus eleven teeth! He beat his brother Marceau. Marceau only had eight pulled when it was his turn two years ago. Over all, Marcel is actually minus a few more since the vet said he’d already lost a few on his own. The poor boy is down to one fang – the upper right one. If you have any kittens, I advise you to have their teeth cleaned regularly – or brush them, whichever works for you. Unlike the residents of the House of Mars, they’ll keep their teeth and you will keep your paycheck.
I used the brushing Marceau ploy that I mentioned in my last post. Of course that brought Marcel charging over over, and his signature head-butting which always gets on my nerves absolved me of any guilt I might have felt at nabbing him.
If you recall the reason they are named Marcel and Marceau is that the day I adopted them, they rode in complete silence for the forty-five minute drive home. Fellow cat owners will back me up when I say this goes against one of the cardinal rules in the guide of feline etiquette. Well, he followed the prescribed rule last Tuesday. First of all he was thrashing about so much that I had to hold on to the carrier with two hands as I took it out to the car. And as for the sounds coming out of that carrier, let’s just say if he had been a child, I’d have been pulled over on suspicion of child abuse.
Surprisingly enough, he held no grudges when I brought him home that evening. He did dash off to safety under the bed upon being sprung from the carrier but a few minutes later I looked up to see he’d ventured back.
As for Marceau, who’d been at home alone for the first time in his life, he was curious about the carrier…..
…..and he displayed none of the hissing that his brother showered on him when he was the one coming home from the vet with hospital smells clinging to his fur. (But then we all know who’s the nice brother.)
Well, Marcel was just biding his time, conspiring with his brother. Saturday was payback time. They tried to give me a heart attack. Act One was the warm up and if we were playing the game of Clue, I’d say “Marceau in the dining room with the screen door”. Screen doors, being screen doors, one tends to let them close on their own. However this one is in a heavy frame so I always have to check it to make sure it’s securely closed since the brothers are indoor cats. Saturday morning I didn’t.
And of course, this was Marceau’s cue to stand up against it and stretch. The door opened and closed quickly. I don’t know who was more startled – he or I? He dashed back inside and, luckily I was just outside the door on the patio, having my morning coffee. I jumped up from the table to close it. What was actually happening was that Marceau was assuming the role of a picador, those cruel clown-like characters who poke a bull to get him all riled up prior to a bullfight. And guess who was the bull?
I (El Toro) soon left to meet a friend for more coffee at my favorite “coffee-ing hole”– The Peekskill Coffee House. When I returned three hours later, Marcel had managed to squeeze under the window to sun himself between said window and the screen. Although he doesn’t have the girth of his brother, who would think he could squeeze under an opening like this?
Well, he had and my coming home startled him, and now he was having trouble squeezing back under the window. In Clue language (“Marcel in the dining room with the window screen.”) Recognizing his mounting panic, and doubting the stability of the screen. I rushed past ,and into the living room to assess the situation. Could he get back in on his own? I peeked back into the dining room. It didn’t look like it. He didn’t have enough room to maneuver. Could I go back and raise the window without him rearing back against the screen? There was only one way to find out.
Bottom line – yes, I could. But the whole episode left my heart pounding. (NO attack, but a workout.) The first thing I did –
lower the window,
And check the door.