Poor Snickers

Poor Snickers. He’s in deep doo-doo with The Family – and he doesn’t even realize it. Maybe that’s for the best.

Everyone was over for Easter dinner last evening, and I was in the kitchen finishing up when I heard a big ruckus in the living room. Igor yelled, “Damn cat – you’re lucky I didn’t drop kick you into the wall over there!” By the time I got there, Snickers was so stressed out from all the noise and yelling that he hissed at me when I approached and appeared ready to attack. It took a long time, but I finally got him talked down enough that he let me pick him and carry him into the bedroom out of harm’s way (Snickers, that is, not Igor – who is way too big for me to carry). I closed the door and told him he would have to stay there until everyone left – Pudge, of course, had bee-lined for either under the bed or the closet shelf as soon as the first scary outsider came through the front door.

Turns out that for some reason, Snickers had felt threatened when Igor walked by him to put something on the table. Snickers slashed out, claws at the ready, and left some very ouchy scratches on Igor’s leg – right through his jeans. Cat scratches burn like the dickens, so I understand why Igor reacted so strongly.

As is our habit, GolfGuy and I walked out to the drive with them when everyone left later on. Mamie and GrandmaT were the last to leave, so we headed back inside when they rolled down the street towards home.

When I got inside, Snickers was coming down the hall, aiming for the front door; Pudge was still in the bedroom, peering around the door that was now open about 8 inches – plenty of room for a cat to get through. A quick check with GolfGuy and the departed family showed that none of them had opened the door. Had to have been Pudge. Our interior doors have lever handles and she has gotten quite adept at opening doors that swing AWAY from her. She has been working to perfect her technique on doors that swing TOWARD her, as the bedroom door does from the room side. I’d say she has it down pat – I frequently find the front closet door and/or pantry door open in the morning; and I know for darn sure that neither GolfGuy nor I have been opening doors while sleepwalking.

We’re fortunate that Igor was the object of Snicker’s wrath and not Pi, who has been the usual target in the past – earning him banishment from family gatherings on many occasions. Snickers has never forgiven Pi for coming over here with Aunt Mamie when she used to bring her dog as well; nor has he forgotten that she used to basically chase him and try to squeeze him, as toddlers are wont to do. He was called “Mean Meow” for a long time by her. Cats have long memories, so we’re told by the vet.

Poor Snickers – he’s getting on in years and doesn’t handle noise, confusion, and invasion of his territory by hordes of noisy people very well. Family gatherings here will now be time-outs for Snickers, behind the closed bedroom door. Hopefully, Pudge won’t spring him until people are gone.