I am not a good sleeper at the best of times, and when Bootsie decides to escape outside and refuses to come back in like a errant teenager, I don’t really sleep at all. He loves to sleep all day, ignores our pleading and prodding, and only wakes up when it is fully dusk. I know that cats are nocturnal, but hope springs eternal. And those nights that he deigns to sleep on the foot of our bed, are my best sleep. No worrying about him being outside, no stress when I hear howling, and hissing noises outside of my window. Life with a teenage…cat. At least he doesn’t ask for the car keys. We don’t willing let him out, but he has a past history before coming to live with us, and that involves refusing to use a litter box, and coming and going as he pleases. We are all in counseling, and one day they say he might even come to love us again. Tough love isn’t easy.
Sometimes we are forced to lock down the patio door partially open so he can come back in when he feels like it, and I can actually get some sleep. A win-win for both sides. I thought, until the other night. As always, I lay awake until I hear him finish his carousing and decide to come home for the night. Then I usually get up, give him heck for ignoring my calls and shut the door. Hearing the sharp click of claws on the door frame, I got out of bed, and headed to the kitchen.
Crunching noises ensued, he was finally in for the night. In the dark, with my trusty flashlight, so as not to wake up Gar, and here might I say.I am SO GLAD I PUT MY GLASSES ON! I went towards the kitchen and the cat food dish. But it wasn’t Bootsie eating there, it was a stinkin Raccoon. I screamed, it jumped, and started to come towards me, I shined the light right into it’s eyes, but it wouldn’t back off. Bare feet, middle of the night, weak flashlight, and a dark room. This is worse then a horror movie! Run Jane! Run Jane! But where? It’s going to get me no matter where I go. We only have 800 square feet, Gar save yourself! Bootsie you are on your own.
Finally my yelling scared it enough and it sauntered out the open patio door. Gar, by the way, slept through all of this, and Boots, well he turned up the next morning. The patio door? It’s now firmly locked all night, and if Bootsie doesn’t return at dark, he is out there all night. It’s every man, woman, and raccoon for themselves around here. Jane
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