Cat on a Thin Tight Leash

MaeMae is essentially in her teenage years and she’s a PITA. Our crèche is looking a wee bit bald where she’s chewed the moss off the roof. Shooting her with water is becoming less effective. She also tries to torture/play with the hound, who, at almost 14, is mostly deaf, largely blind and gets confused easily. I think it’s a form of Alzheimer’s, but others disagree.

On more than one occasion I’ve stopped MaeMae with one claw out, poking at the dog’s backside. Furious barking ensues with the cat making a mad dash away.

This is as peaceful as it gets.

So MaeMae desperately wants to go outside… we just have to bring out the leash and she comes running. Given she makes a break for the door whenever Abby goes out, we decided to try walks with her in a backpack. Heck, it might be another diversion until she calms down a bit.

The black mesh makes her less visible but she can see out and gives fresh air from all sides.

Bugger trying to walk a cat on a leash, that sure as heck ain’t happening. I can only imagine what hell that would be.

After a couple of initial mews, she got into it. LOVED it, in fact. Purred when she got in the “bin”, as we’re now calling it. She sits or lays there, taking in the fresh air and the scenery. For ease of execution, we were going out without the dog, as she’s as bad as a damn cat, sniffing EVERYTHING and meandering along.

However, we tried the family walk… MaeMae happily got in her “bin” and clipped the dog on the leash.

We cut the walk short due to the impassioned cries coming from the backpack. We always have someone walking behind the backpack so she knows she’s not alone – the day before The Boy had accompanied us and he and Beloved walked in full view of the cat, so I figured, poor baby, she’s getting stressed as I’m walking away from Beloved the obstinate-hound wrangler. I walked first, with Beloved attempting to convince yon dog to move along, move along.

Abby was having none of it. She was sniffing every blade of grass, wee’d on multiple lawns, crapped up a storm and generally dawdled even more than damn usual.

Meanwhile, MaeMae wailed her misery. Constant reassurance didn’t seem to help. Nor did stopping to wait for Beloved and dog to catch up… in fact, that somehow made the wailing worse…?

Bah. Damn animals. Who knew MaeMae wasn’t scared until we walked her again, sans dog. She’d been PISSED… she wanted OUT. Abby was exacting her revenge for the pokey-pokey-pokey, showing off her freedom.

We’re back to dogless cat excursions without the howling. My mother walks the dog.

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