It was a very odd morning yesterday.
Around 4:30, I heard my roommate come home. Apparently, he came home several times, because I heard him open and close the door to the apartment at least four times. And about five or ten minutes later, there was a knock on my door. He wanted to explain what had just happened.
He got home from work and as he approached his bedroom, he heard a meow. He didn’t think much of it, because Elmo (my cat) likes to sleep on his bed. But then he heard a hiss, and realized that the meow wasn’t typically Elmoesque. He flipped on the light, and saw a strange cat sitting on his pillow.
When I went to bed, I’d left Elmo out. I’d left a window open so he could return at his leisure. Apparently, another cat had taken the open window as an invitation, and made himself welcome.
My roommate tried to scare off the interloper, but to no avail. So went out and gathered up Elmo, figuring Elmo’s natural territoriality would kick in and the stranger would take off for the hills.
Elmo saw the stranger and hissed. The stranger hissed back. Elmo decided he didn’t care for my roommate’s pillow that much, and beat feet back out the window and outside.
So my roommate did what any red-blooded male whose private space was being violated: he started a pillow fight. After a few swipes, the stranger bolted outside, then set up camp at the top of the stairs, keeping Elmo away.
It was at that point that I figured it was time I dealt with matters as only I could. I kicked him out of my room, found a pair of pants and a shirt, and went outside to chase the strange cat away further. Unlike my roommate, though, I was heavily armed: I had a squirt gun, and every intention of using it.
But the little SOB of a cat didn’t care. I’d squirt him, he’d just whine. It wasn’t until I got right on top of him that he scampered down to the second floor, where he set up camp on the landing and absolutely refused to move, no matter how often I squirted him. Even when I reloaded it with icewater, he refused to move.
At that point, I figured the best I could do was retrieve Elmo and go back to bed. I covered the cat while my roommate went downstairs and around the corner to find my brave little feline cowering under a bush. He brought him upstairs, but he started kicking and scratching at the second-floor landing (NOW he finds his nerve), so my roommate dropped him. He raced past the strange cat, past me, and jumped through the still-open window. We retired ourselves, and closed the screen on the damned window. Then I fed Elmo, gave him some treats to calm his nerves, and my roommate and I mercilessly taunted him for his cowardly behavior. He ignored us and kept eating.
A couple hours later, I was getting ready for work when I heard a strange meowing outside the window. I looked out through the screen, and saw a DIFFERENT strange cat. He, apparently, wanted in, too.
As I left, he tried to dart past me and race into my apartment, but I blocked him with my foot (NOT kicking him) and slammed the door. He ran to the window and leaped up, but bounced (literally) off the screen. He then ran down to the second floor and meowed and hissed at me.
I had to get to work, so I just ignored him. But as I got to the second floor, he suddenly ran to the railings, squeezed and wriggled through them, and leaped to the pavement a full story below, then took off across the alley and into some brush.
That’s two strange cats that tried like hell to get into my apartment. If I didn’t know that Elmo was 1) male and B) fixed, I’d suspect him of running a kitty bordello — a literal “cat-house.”
Tonight when I got home, I noticed one of my neighbors in the building has a “lost cat” sign up, with a picture that looks suspiciously like the second stranger. There’s a reward offered, and my roommate’s at work again. I’m tempted to leave the window open again, periodically check my roommate’s pillow, and maybe make a few bucks.