AAAAAUUUUUGH.
Are you familiar with those extremely loud wailing alert sirens guaranteed to warn the village of an upcoming avalanche / hurricane / tornado / half-off sale on SUVs? Yeah, that's the one. Penetrates the skull, overrides blasting rap music, ear plugs, hunting rifle headsets. Raises the blood pressure 90 notches. If you listen closely, I'm sure you can hear her from where you're standing. Yep. That's The Cat.
I love The Cat, as any good cat slave would. There is no way I would raise a hand or a voice against her or any of her kin.
But for 2.5 hours a day, every day from 6:30 AM to 9:00 AM, this is not The Cat. This is a howling, tuna-breathing, inconsolable, persistently agonizing abomination from the bowels of Hell, in fur.
All because she got to go outdoors two mornings in a row without her leash. Two repetitive instances = new mandatory daily routine, if you're The Cat.
Letting her out will immediately cease the howling... until she comes back in, and then the 2.5 hour timer starts again. I can't let her go out, though - if she freaked and decided to run out across the desert, there's nothing I could do to stop her. Since she is prone to freaking out at anything from a falling leaf to a passing truck, that she will freak is a given. So we wait it out. Eventually she'll stop the banshee parody, stomp off in disgust and give me a few minutes of peace -
- or she'll leap up on my desk, stand between the computer and me, nuzzle my face with her cheek, and remind me that I'm a very nice cat slave for not letting her run out into traffic.
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