We have had, since our marriage began, three cats. Ambulance, Arsenal and Beemr. Ambulance was an indoor/outdoor cat and lived to be 17, a beautiful long-haired black and white kitty with a perfectly feline self-image, a twisted sense of humor and a Supreme Court Justice's sense of fairness. (The photo shows him at an advanced age.)
At the time we had him we lived across the street from a school and, most importantly for Ambulance, the Forest Preserve. For many years he hunted there and sometimes brought home "treats" for me.
And then a neighbor complained. A neighbor who we had had trouble with before.
He said my cat and another cat (Gandalf-- a big Russian Blue who lived next door) were hiding under a bush near his house at night and scaring the bejesus out of his tiny white poodle, Chippy. Thus, late at night, last thing, Chippy would go out before bed but be too terrified by the huge lions in the bush hissing at him, to do his "business". I thought this was hilarious. Trying not to laugh,
I told him I would discuss it with Ambulance and explain that this was not appropriate, then quickly shut the door, turned off the light and sprinted for the stairs before he had a chance to realise what I had just said.
So I thought well, ok.
And I bought a cat harness. One of the figure8 ones that they cannot pull out of. Little dog harnesses do not work.
I put the harness on Ambulance who instantly flattened himself into the grass. I clipped on the "leash" and took a step. Hissssssssssssss.
I gently tugged the leash. Repeat Hisssssssss.
Now Ambulance was not a pissy cat. Hit him with a book when he was sleeping and he'd slit your eyelid open, as my 3 yr old son learned. Fair is fair.
This, he felt, was not fair. I tugged again and suddenly he came to life, leaping, screaming, turning somersaults in the air and finally, attaching himself tooth and nail to my upper rear thigh, chewing on me as if I were some little rodent. Screaming, I managed to detach my body from his but he wasn't done and wrapped his legs around my arm and began tearing at me again. I scruffed him off and threw him on the ground where he instantly flattened out-- ears and all, and regarded me with loathing, his eyes huge and dilated, panting. He knew he had won round 1. There was no round 2. The entire debacle lasted about 20 seconds.
I quickly removed the leash and harness as I simultaneously attempted not to drip blood on everything. He remained flat in the grass, glaring, in case I was stupid enough to try again. In case I had not gotten the message:
"Put a tether on me and I become SCHIZOPHRENIC CAT."
I never tried that again.
Arsenal was a short-haired grey Tabby that I brought home from the Veterinary Hospital where I worked. He was my son's cat, really. He was an indoor cat and as soon as he shredded the shower curtains and began working on the new stereo speakers I had his front declawed. (For the record, I did this again with Beemr because neither cats were allowed outside without supervision, but I would not do it now.)
I started Ars with a harness very young and so he was ok with it, altho he wouldn't "walk" with you. I put a very long very lightweight line on the harness and would sit outside with him while he managed to tangle himself around every plant, bush and tree in the yard, usually ending up under something with deadly long thorns and near a wasp nest. Once he cornered a shrew and was about to start playing "kitty tag" (which consists of taking some harmless little creature and slapping it with a paw: BAM!"You're it--I dare you to move...") but the shrew had other ideas and standing up on it's little back legs it SCREAMED at Arsenal-- if I had not been right there I would never have believed him-- and poor Arsenal paused, stared, and then basically showed the shrew the way into the neighbor's yard.
Beemr came along some time after Ambulance had died and she was also from the Hospital. A tiny, malnourished long-haired tabby, she grew up into a beautiful, ill-tempered little bitch. She hated the harness. She would wear it but she hated it. I do not think she had been outside before because when she did go out she was afraid of grass.
Altho she acted as if she longed to be outside, take her out and she would bunny hop to the nearest sidewalk and wail to be let back in.
About twice a year she would somehow manage to get out the door with the dogs and then, finding herself in GRASS, panic. I was always afraid she would lunge under the fence in her terror, and run away, but I was always able to get to her before she had a chance.
For Beemr, the harness was a tool of torture.
Beemr bit people. She rarely bit me because I learned quickly to read the "Beemr's had enough, thank you" signs. She would snuggle down next to you in a chair or couch and then, if you moved....
They were wonderful cats. But it will be a long time before I try "walking" one again.
