Musing Of A Muddled Male

Cat Box
By Bob Stevens, The Muddled Male

musingsofamuddledmale@gmail,com

 

Ann, my wife, has been struggling of late with competing instincts.  I shared with you previously that she loves cuddly, furry little creatures.  She is particularly partial to the cute little chipmunks that skitter around behind our house looking for Black Oil Sunflower Seeds that our particular chipmunks love to eat and I begrudgingly buy.  A few weeks ago we spotted a feral cat living under our deck.  At first we thought that she was alone, but then we notice that there were three kittens that were part of her entourage.  Ann's first response was, "Oh how cute."  That was until she spotted the mother cat patiently teaching the kittens to hunt chipmunks.  What was she to do?  The kittens were cute and the chipmunks were cute, but they were obviously incompatible.  Then the mother and two kittens left for better accommodations while one really cute but scared little tabby kitten stayed behind to live on his own under our deck. And that is when Ann's motherly instinct kicked in.

            Even though Ann kept repeating that we had to find some other home for our kitten because we were gone frequently and couldn't leave such a delicate creature to fend for himself, we were, at the same time, out purchasing comfort supplies to meet the needs of the kitten we had named Tuffy for his ability to survive.  First there were several different flavors of canned kitty pâté which had to be taken back because Tuffy wasn't partial to the texture.  Those were replaced with canned kitty shreds....with gravy....which he really liked and consumed lots of.  And a carton of eggs because Tuffy like a boiled egg in the morning for breakfast.  Then there was the blanket with kitten faces to keep him company at night, a potty box scoop, two potty boxes (which he would use only if we manually placed him in the box), a large box of clumping potty box filler, a fake mouse, a pet carrier, and...well, you get the idea.

            Then stress came into our marriage.  Ann said, as I remember, We can't leave that poor, cute, motherless kitten out there under the deck alone on this miserably cold night.  We have to bring him in where I am close by to give him comfort and keep him warm.  And so I, the dutiful husband, went out to the garage and found a sturdy box with a secure lid and began to modify the box for its occupant by adding air holes in the side that could also serve as peek holes to allow a view of the outside world.  And it worked, too.  I found that if I curled up really small I could squeeze comfortably into the box.  And I not only had adequate air, I could also look out through the peek holes and see Ann lying under a warm blanket cuddling the cat.  I did get a charley horse in the wee hours of the morning when I began to shiver in the cold and couldn't stretch my leg out straight. The thing that really worried me, however, was when I heard her tell someone that if she didn't find a place for "him" to live then he might have to be put down, and I didn't know if she meant the cat or the dutiful husband