I walked into the bathroom this morning to see Snurp, our cat, jumping three feet in the air towards the shower door. He crashed face first into the door and slid to the ground. Then he jumped into it again. I have no idea why our cat was bounding into the shower door. My guess is he doesn’t know, either. Snurp isn’t very bright.
But he sure is interesting.
Snurp entered our lives last spring. A teacher at Eli’s preschool had kittens she was giving away, and Sally told her we’d take one sight unseen. In hindsight, that may have been a mistake.
I didn’t really see Snurp the first three days after Sally brought him home. He spent those days underneath our bed, coming out only when we weren’t around.
Day four Snurp changed. The scared kitten became an attack cat. And so began a full-on assault of the family. Snurp stalked us from room to room, sneak attacking us from under the couch and leaping onto our heads from the stairs. Nobody was spared, least of all Chuck. We’d hear a yelp and find Snurp digging into Chuck’s tail or hanging off an ear. For whatever reason, cats have it out for Chuck, and over the years he has suffered, Job-like, at the paws of tiny felines.
Snurp also had problems with the litter box. He’d do his business in it some, but he preferred the dining room floor. Most mornings, we’d find a fresh Lincoln Log or two there. We tried our best to change his ways. We kept the litter box clean. We stuck Snurp’s nose in his messes. We threatened him. We even screamed at him. But nothing deterred the cat.
At night, Snurp, purring sweetly, would curl up on the bed next to Sally. He especially liked sleeping on her face. In the middle of the night, he’d bite Sally, often on the cheek or nose. Repeatedly, I’d awake to Sally cursing and throwing Snurp off the bed. Unaffected, Snurp would climb right back on the bed, and a few minutes later, he’d bite her again. Eventually, Sally would lock Snurp outside the bedroom. Problem solved, except that Snurp had the run of the house, including the dining room floor.
“We have the worst cat in the world,” she told me one morning. “Can we feed him to a coyote?” I laughed, and she looked at me blankly. “I mean it. Can we feed Snurp to a coyote?”
One evening, Snurp decided to curl up next to me. He purred quietly and soon fell asleep. At 3:00 AM, he bit me on the chin. I was dead out and instinctively responded by chunking Snurp into a wall. I felt like a cat abuser. Snurp, of course, was not the least frazzled and climbed right back on top of me and started kneading on my chest and calmly purring.
We intended to make Snurp an indoor-only cat. He’d be safe from owls and dogs, we reckoned, and songbirds and lizards would be safe from Snurp.
Our plans changed within a month of his arrival. The constant attacks, the sleep deprivation, and the dining room surprises were too much to take. So we decided we’d bring him in at night and lock him in a bathroom. But otherwise, he was living in the great outdoors.
He has taken to being outside. He’s a gifted, eager climber. He’ll tear straight up a tree, turn around, race back down face first, and then sprint to another tree to go right up and right back down. It’s a sight to behold.
Despite his sometimes hostile ways, he has become gregarious. When we go for a family walk around the neighborhood, Snurp follows, meowing when we venture too far beyond the house.
When I come home from work, Snurp greets me in the driveway by running and bounding into me, usually at crotch level. Fortunately, he doesn’t use his claws or teeth. One time he caught me by surprise with a bag of groceries. When he crashed into me, I dropped the groceries. I called him some colorful names that day. I’m sure the neighbors were appreciative.
In the house, Snurp has, as of late, turned a corner. He no longer bites. He likes being held and is quick to purr if you scratch him. We’re letting him roam the house some now, and at night, he mainly rolls himself into a ball on the bed and sleeps. Best of all, he hasn’t dropped a Tootsie Roll in the dining room in weeks.
He still isn’t sharp (see jumping into shower door above), and he still sometimes dive bombs Chuck, but we think he’s actually becoming, well, adequate. And we’re thinking we won’t feed him to a coyote. At least not this week.
Family update: Slade is gaining about an ounce a day and doing well. He is bottle feeding a couple of times a day and nursing on Sally daily. We’re still looking at an early January departure from the hospital.
Thanksgiving was fine, if uneventful. Lots of hospital time for Sally. Lots of dad and Eli time for the four year old and me. The picture below is from Friday during Eli’s weekly visit to the NICU.