HAPPY BIRTHDAY MUMMIMAMMA!
May. 15th, 2014 11:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
blamebramptonTo Dear ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mummimamma, the happiest of days! You are my favourite fleet-footed Moomin!
I have no other news, save that I have nearly reached the end of work hell, and that my kitten is a genius escapologist.
The other morning I poked my head out of the window to say goodbye to the cats in the run. Rusketus's reply came from above me, and was a bit urgent.
He was on the roof. The nearly 5m-high roof.
Where he had jumped to from the top of the cat-run wall, which is in itself about 3m high.
After 45 minutes of woman-handling a giant ladder, which I did not go very far up as I was on my own, luring him to a lower part of the roof and trying to convince him that the Mynah birds were not new friends as they swooped and scolded him, I finally caught him and was able to lock the cats inside and head off for work. Late.
I knew how he had made it to the top of the run: he swarms up the mesh like a sailor on the Victory and then parades up and down the wooden frame. To get back down, he jumps onto the mesh hammocks that are slung in a stepped fashion below the living room window for the cats to enter and leave the cat run. But I had been convinced the nearly 2m vertical jump from the frame to the roof would be beyond him, and so it proved. Instead, he leapt diagonally onto the guttering for the lower roof section, about 1.2 horizontal metres (4 feet) and nearly as much vertically. All with a long drop to concrete below.
That night we spent three hours 'kitten-proofing' the run. He managed to lock us out while we were at it by dint of running up and down the back screen door wailing until he kicked the latch into 'lock'. Happily, we were able to sort it from outside.
The next morning, we let them out into the run, impressed by our handiwork. He swarmed up the wall of the run and met our barrier and was stopped. We congratulated each other. He came back down and sat there investigating it for 15 minutes.
Just as I finished my hair, I heard a familiar miaow. Sure enough, when I popped my head out, there he was, on the roof.
Luckily, Mr B was still home and he is a foot taller than me, so the catching part of the story went far more smoothly, but suffice to say, no cat is going outside until we can fix it on the weekend. The older two have been showing their displeasure in vomit.
I cannot believe that with a combined age of 92, we are being out-thought by a kitten! The shame!
mummimamma, the happiest of days! You are my favourite fleet-footed Moomin!I have no other news, save that I have nearly reached the end of work hell, and that my kitten is a genius escapologist.
The other morning I poked my head out of the window to say goodbye to the cats in the run. Rusketus's reply came from above me, and was a bit urgent.
He was on the roof. The nearly 5m-high roof.
Where he had jumped to from the top of the cat-run wall, which is in itself about 3m high.
After 45 minutes of woman-handling a giant ladder, which I did not go very far up as I was on my own, luring him to a lower part of the roof and trying to convince him that the Mynah birds were not new friends as they swooped and scolded him, I finally caught him and was able to lock the cats inside and head off for work. Late.
I knew how he had made it to the top of the run: he swarms up the mesh like a sailor on the Victory and then parades up and down the wooden frame. To get back down, he jumps onto the mesh hammocks that are slung in a stepped fashion below the living room window for the cats to enter and leave the cat run. But I had been convinced the nearly 2m vertical jump from the frame to the roof would be beyond him, and so it proved. Instead, he leapt diagonally onto the guttering for the lower roof section, about 1.2 horizontal metres (4 feet) and nearly as much vertically. All with a long drop to concrete below.
That night we spent three hours 'kitten-proofing' the run. He managed to lock us out while we were at it by dint of running up and down the back screen door wailing until he kicked the latch into 'lock'. Happily, we were able to sort it from outside.
The next morning, we let them out into the run, impressed by our handiwork. He swarmed up the wall of the run and met our barrier and was stopped. We congratulated each other. He came back down and sat there investigating it for 15 minutes.
Just as I finished my hair, I heard a familiar miaow. Sure enough, when I popped my head out, there he was, on the roof.
Luckily, Mr B was still home and he is a foot taller than me, so the catching part of the story went far more smoothly, but suffice to say, no cat is going outside until we can fix it on the weekend. The older two have been showing their displeasure in vomit.
I cannot believe that with a combined age of 92, we are being out-thought by a kitten! The shame!
