the secret life of cats

i have to wonder what’s going on with kitty. obviously he has a very full and exciting nightlife, every night, that requires my services as doorperson on up to five separate occasions, under very different circumstances. i wish i could put a little camera on his head so i could prowl the neighborhood with him, but he’d never stand for that.

it starts usually around three am, he’ll jump up on the couch and ask in a small, trilling voice mrrrr? i need to go out. i let him out. hour later, bang bang bang on the screen door (it doesn’t latch, so it’s his doorknocker). when he gets in he tells me what’s been happening in an urgent sort of voice, and even if i did speak the language, at that hour i just wish he would hush. repeat this several times over, sometimes at fifteen minute intervals — now it’s not like he forgot he was hungry when he asked to go out, there’s something going on out there, some tempestuous relationship with the girl kitty next door, even though they are both fixed. perhaps conflicts with that grey kitty that lives across the street, a territorial dispute of sorts.

it’s a good thing i’m not a sound sleeper and i wake up frequently anyway, otherwise i’d be one frustrated catservant.

still, i’d really like to know what sort of dramatic feline dynamics are at work out there, in the wee hours.

11 thoughts on “the secret life of cats

  1. We really are the same person a couple hundred miles apart.
    My 4-legged son does the same things including knowing how to “knock” on the door. I don’t allow the cats out at night any more though, so if he really starts being a little fit-thrower, he gets locked on the porch. It’s amazing the way they act when they want out. I always ask if he’s late for an appointment or something, the way he paces.
    There really needs to be catcams though. The only use for an X10 I could get behind.

  2. it is! it’s just like they have some kind of appointment, some hot date or something. the problem is with my kitty is that he will not use a litterbox. just won’t. so, when he asks to go out, if it happens to be for that, i’ll wake up to bad things on the carpet.

    he has me very well trained, really.

  3. I am definitely a slave to my fuzzy little boys. They’re so funny, though… Random, the eldest, is enormous and, I would think (from the scars), quite capable of taking care of himself. Mal’s a baby, so perhaps the following is more understandable in his case:

    They are afraid to go outside. They will not go. If you force them, they yowl at the door.

    Oh no, I can’t get started on the cats. I’ll be here for hours, jabbering away.

  4. i would rather keep kitty inside, he’s declawed, but apparently still somewhat fierce, however i worry about him. he’s very fluffy, but underneath all the fluff he’s fairly scrawny.

  5. I was given a T-shirt a few years ago with the following highly appropriate legend:

    Agenda for the day:
    Let dog out
    Let dog in
    Let dog out
    Let dog in

    See? It ain’t just cats.

  6. While we sleep catbabies are being born catsocieties are being constructed catsymphonies are being composed catadventures are being had catpolitics are being debated and catdramas are being lived out. Whole universes of cat stuff exist! They do!

  7. i stopped trying to figure out our cat several years ago. she’s about 17 years old now so i just blame everything she does on “old age”! 🙂

  8. I have to say that the same thing happens around here, except it’s not letting the cat(s) out; it’s *FEED ME*! Now, the cat(s) don’t seem to care that there is FOOD for them already out; they want MORE.

    Luckily, mine don’t talk at that hour; they just aggressively snuggle (happy feet, smooches, purring, nose rubbing) …

    it’s all good.

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