Saturday, September 27, 2008

A Brave Little Toaster

So when Ferret and I moved, we brought our respective fuzzies with us: my kitty Haven, and her ferret Loki. It was a hell of an adventure- and I think without kitty sedatives we'd have gone insane with the constant affronted, squeaking meows. (She woke up once during the drive before we could give her snooze-pills again. Once was enough.) Thank goddess ferrets, at least, don't make many sounds.
So we've been here a few weeks and we're staying downstairs. The kitty too has been staying downstairs because of the two large furry noisy scary things upstairs, also known as dogs. They can't come down the stairs, and the one time early on that she ventured up, they wanted to play. Apparently it was traumatic. She's also kind of a diva, so I don't put it past her to exaggerate the whole thing's drama factor. Honestly, it was just a little drool. But she's insistent that they're barbarians.
 So, stalemate.

But now the kitty, who's been lurking in the basement like, well, Basement Cat, is finally starting to unwind. She'll come up the stairs now, and sit near the top, plaintively calling for attention. She'll dash to the bottom as soon as I head down, of course, because she hopes to play the "sit on the bed and be petted" game. She'll come to the stairs when I call, because she knows she'll get a treat if she comes up a few steps. I've been hoping to gradually coax her upward.

But we had a triumphal moment when she came up the stairs, out the door, and wandered cautiously around the kitchen, sniffing. Haven made it out of the stairwell!
...And then she heard a noise and zoomed downstairs again.

Oh well, she'll learn.