Das Katzenhaus: Bad Touch

The days continued to pass into weeks and months since Diego had been brought to this new home from his old one. Gone was the cage, the other cats, the lack of attention. The One—as there was only one who was always with him—gave him as much or as little attention as he desired. And there was even a sufficient mouse problem to keep him occupied.

A strangely persistent mouse problem.

When a few months had gone by, the One went away for a few days, and one of the others watched over him. She was the person he had seen the second most after the One, and they had an understanding. She treated him much the way the One had, and even didn't rebuke him for leaving paw prints on the cookie sheet. She also brought him a strange new toy.

"I wonder why he doesn't keep these around all the time?"

One night, she left some space open on the bed while she slept. Diego liked warm spots, so he hopped up on to the bed and curled up near her feet. He dozed happily and comfortably, completely undisturbed until he suddenly felt this strange flying sensation.

About a month later, Diego didn't feel so well. He tried to hide it from the One, but he couldn't. The One got out the cage he had brought Diego home in. Diego wondered what it might be for, when the One scooped him up and carried him towards it.

But Diego didn't want to leave his home. He was happy here. So when the One tried to put him through the door of it, Diego splayed out his legs and kept himself out. The One pulled back and tried pushing him in again, but Diego pushed back harder, managing to spin around.

Diego looked at the One.

The One looked at Diego.

Diego bit the One on the hand.

The One released Diego, and Diego ran off into the bedroom to hide under the bed. A few minutes passed quietly, the only sound that of the One pacing about. Then he closed all the doors to the room and flipped the bed on its side, leaving Diego exposed. Diego once again felt himself lifted and carried toward something different than before. He was placed into a shallow bin and then a roof was placed over top of him.

It was the cage!

Diego didn't know what to do at first. He didn't want to move, didn't want to make a sound, even as he felt himself being lifted inside the cage. When the movement changed again, he began to keen. The One spoke gently to him through the bars, reaching his fingers into the cage to touch Diego even as he transported him.

Where was he taking him?

After a few minutes, they were in a place like where he had lived before the One. There were others of his kind there, along with the hated barkers, and other people as well. The One set the cage down in his lap, and kept touching him reassuringly through the bars. They waited there for some time before the cage was moved again to a new room with bright lights.

The cage was set down and the One opened the door again. Diego crept forward cautiously out of the cage, only to be snatched by gloved hands.

The woman did unspeakable things to him with something called a "thermometer." She checked his mouth, his eyes, his ears. She checked parts of him he would never be able to lick clean. After a few minutes of this and some things she said to the One, she stabbed him with something and he felt a weird bubble grow on his back!

When the bubble had subsided, he was allowed to creep back into the cage.

There was no resistance this time.

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So this is part two of the series of some stories from my memories of my cats. The first incident here happened when my ex-girlfriend housesat for me for a weekend. That flying sensation came from her extending her legs. This still happens to Diego on occasion.


The latter situation happened in November or December of that year when Diego vomited some water (eww). I was a new cat owner at the time, so I was a bit freaked and took him to the vet. He had only a mild fever and she injected him with water under the skin, which created a fabulous bubble.


Diego absolutely put up the fight described and I did have to close all the doors and turn over the bed to get him. Yet somehow I'm the one who felt bad about the whole ordeal.