How I Got Rid of That Damn Cat

*Disclaimer:  No cats were harmed in the making of this post.

Last week I wrote a post about a stray cat that had decided to take up residence in my backyard.  You can read about it here.  I was pretty sure between the dancing, cursing, and broom nudging that I had been able to get rid of that cat for good.  

I was wrong.

The next morning Dave came in, after taking the kids to school, and informed me that he just saw the cat in the backyard over by the trash bins.  With a smirk on his face he asked me if I wanted him to take a picture of it. 

Creepy, right?!?!  While taking pictures, Dave noticed that the cat had a tag.  He inched closer to the cat trying to get a picture of the tag, but the cat wasn't having it.  It took off and hid under a kids table that we had in the bulk trash.  It started meowing and hissing.  The closer Dave got, the louder the hissing and meowing became.  It's a good thing that our camera has an 18x zoom or I think Dave may have lost an eye trying to get this picture.

Why hello, Isabel.

Dave came in and immediately called the owner.  No answer.  Go figure. 

Now, let me insert a little known fact about me.  I am a worst case scenario kind of girl.  I inherited this lovely trait from my dad.  When I'm out driving and I see a cop, I'm sure they're out looking just for me.  There is a leak in our master bathroom shower, and I'm sure that there is black mold growing in the wall that is going to kill us all.  When the Beast got sick after having outpatient surgery, I was sure he had a staph infection or MRSA.  You get the idea.  So of course, you can imagine what I thought when the owner didn't answer, "They've abandoned this cat, and made a run for it."

Dave left a message for the owner and decided to take the wait and see approach.  Ahem...another little known fact about me, I'm not a huge fan of the wait and see approach.  Dave left for work, and I did my best to ignore the cat in my backyard.  I was doing a pretty good job until Isabel walked across my patio.  She looked like her belly was hanging a little low and in my "expert" opinion, I was positive that Isabel was pregnant.  Suddenly visions of tiny kittens pooping and peeing all over my backyard (worst case scenario) crossed my mind, and I freaked out.  I knew if Isabel had her kittens in the backyard we would NEVER get rid of this cat.  I found the number for animal control and gave them a call.  Currently, our town has NO animal control officer on the payroll and they informed me, via automated message, that there are NO agencies/organizations that will pick up cats. 

Great.  So, I started researching "how to get cats out of your yard".  There was tons of information.  Obviously, this is big problem for lots of people.  Damn stray cats.  The articles talked about a product called Shake-away, cayenne pepper, water, etc.  I figured dousing my whole yard in cayenne pepper was a little unrealistic.  But water, now I have water.  In fact, I have a hose, that sprays water out of a fancy little nozzle with 7 settings. 

The wheels started turning in my head and even though Isabel (the cat) scared the crap out of me, I decided to venture into the jungle depths of our backyard and confront her face to face.  I put on my big girl panties, armed myself with my trusty hose and went to face my arch-nemesis.  Isabel was in her favorite spot by the trash bin.  I aimed my nozzle from a good distance (didn't want her to attack me) and let my water fly!  Isabel started hissing and meowing.  I was screaming "GET OUT OF MY YARD" while jumping up and down and gyrating all over the place.  She was hissing, I was channeling my inner Braveheart, the battle was ON!  Isabel kept trying to find cover from my water onslaught, but anywhere she went I followed her.  Eventually, she screeched past me (my heart literally stopped when she started coming towards me.  I thought for sure I was a goner!) and made her way to the other side yard.  I, of course, chased her down, screaming and convulsing the whole way.  I have to admit, I was the first one to call it quits.  I put down my weapon, put my tail between my legs, and ran for the safety of my house.  Isabel may have won that battle, but she didn't win the war.



Well, to make a long story a little longer, the owner came and picked up Isabel.  She wooed and cooed her into the travel carrier and whisked her away from the dangers (a.k.a. me) of my backyard.  When they walked out the door I breathed a huge sigh of relief.  The damn cat was gone, at least for now.  Apparently Isabel was originally a stray and tends to runaway every 5-6 months.  I'm hoping I was crazy enough that if/when she ever runs away again she will think twice before entering my backyard again.  

FYI:  Isabel wasn't pregnant.  Apparently, they'd had her fixed after they adopted her.  Like I said, worst case scenario kind of girl.

And that, my friends, is How I Got Rid of That Damn Cat!