What to do when a 'Skitty' decides Your space is a nice place to live. -- Knitnan
There was a cat sharing his sleep nook. Curled up in the crook of his knees and purring loud enough to simulate a malfunctioning cooling fan. It was the same cat that came into his domicile every evening and Cal gently but insistently shoved out of his doorway before retiring to bed.
He had no idea why this was happening to him. Some folks fed the Skitties. Or, at the minimum, left their personal leftovers where the Skitties could find them. There were people who stopped in their tracks to give the Skitties affection. There were even people who made home decorating choices based entirely on what might lure a Skitty or fifteen to choose to nest in their domicile.
Space. Who would have guessed that it would become the ideal destination for crazed cat people? Cal did not count himself among that number and was usually pleased to allow the Skitties to go where they whist and occasionally chuck half a dead mouse at the nearest Cleaner. There should have been nothing to lure any Skitty to wish to turn him into a personal butt warmer.
And yet... this one kept inviting itself in.
Cal squirmed out of bed to the usual threats of claws and complaining meows. Then, still in his pyjamas, carefully escorted the cat to the hallway.
It was back inside by the time he was done with his personal cleansing cycle. Sitting on his dining table and looking at him expectantly.
"No. Hunt your own."
More meowing. Cal picked it up, deposited it in the hallway again, washed his hands, and started preparing a quick, vitamin soup from a sachet.
The cat returned, leaped up to his counter, and attempted to stick its nose into the hot water. Cal pushed it away and off the counter, only to find that this Skitty had decided to dominate his only chair.
"Joke's on you," he said. "I don't sit in the morning." He drank down his hot soup, rinsed out the cup, and went to work. He didn't want to encourage a Skitty to stay in his domicile, but this one had evidently decided to move in anyway. At lunchtime, he consulted the free infonets. A very brief message.
Skitty has moved in. Don't want cats. What do?
Cal checked his messages on the way home. Two thousand people had said something varying on, Congratulations on your new cat. And a few hundred gave some good advice on communicating in Cat, as well as some foods to offer. And methods that might work to keep the cat off of his non-cat surfaces.
At least he knew a guy in Organic Recycling, and could probably swing a fish or at least a grown fish steak. Something he could share with his inevitable housemate.
The Skitty was waiting when he got home, and attempted to trip him up when it detected the fish. Fortunately, Cal had already purchased and loaded a water pistol. Cal's 'no' got quickly associated with a jet of water. Skitties were gengineered to be able to devour a lot more than their Terran Feline ancestor. Therefore cooked fish was no harm to them.
Cal put a dish of fish on the floor and gave himself a share. He placed the water bowl closer to the door, where he was less likely to trip on it or the cat as it was drinking. The Skitty wolfed it all down in seconds and attempted to smudge up to Cal's ankles.
"Tomorrow," he said, "I'm getting you your own heated bed. I'm sick of claw marks in the backs of my knees."
The Skitty only meowed at him and attempted to get to Cal's meal.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / okssi68]
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