No, Clyde!

I knew instantly it was a mistake.  No, not the Iran War/Not A War/Excursion/No Idea What Comes Next.  Although, that too.

The instantaneous mistake to which I am referring is Double Sided Sticky Tape.  For cat training purposes.

But let’s back up and provide a little context.

My daughter, son-in-law, and granddaughter have come to live with us temporarily.  They have two cats, Clyde and Luna.

Luna is a sweetheart who is scared of her own shadow and spends 23 out of 24 hours living under the bed.

Clyde is the spawn of the devil.

Cats have been a part of our lives for roughly the past 35 years. I know cats. And I trained both of my cats to not jump up on the counters and the table.  Those of you that know me, germaphobe that I am, know that I would place a high priority on that kind of training.

Not that my daughter and son-in-law didn’t try. They did their best trying to train him to not jump on the counters and table.  But see the previous statement above about him being the spawn of the devil.  No one tells the devil what to do.  He just laughs in your face and says, ‘Oh yeah, whatcha gonna do ‘boud it?”  This devil is from Brooklyn.

Clyde and I go way back.  After Wren, our granddaughter, was born, we made lots of trips to Brooklyn where they lived.  I spent many a night sleeping on their sofa.  I didn’t get much sleep those nights. The sofa was quite comfortable.  That was not the issue.  Clyde was.

The first night I spent on their sofa I was awoken at around 1 am by Clyde gently swatting at my face.  I opened my eyes and found myself eyeball to eyeball with his impenetrable green eyes boring into my soul, as if to suck the life out of it, his face just inches from mine.

I turned on my other side with my back to him, hoping he would go away.  I had much to learn yet.

He continued to paw at me, jumping on me, clawing at my legs and arms under the blanket.

I sat up.

“No, Clyde!” I said.

Again, much to learn.  As if that mere command would stop his pursuit of keeping me awake.

I had nowhere to go, since the only rooms in the apartment that had doors were my daughter’s and SIL’s room, the bathroom, and the nursery. 

So, I sat upright on the couch, trying to deflect all of his subsequent attacks. I did not get much sleep that night.

The next night my daughter and I thought we could outsmart him (ah such naivete) and set up a barrier to the living room.  We propped up Wren’s play mat in the doorway leading to the living room which already had a baby gate in it.  The mat stood about 6 feet tall.  We put their laundry containers which stand about 4 feet tall in front of it for even more support.  Piled on some pillows. We thought that should do the trick.

Au contraire.

Around 1 am again I hear Clyde assaulting the defenses.  I imagined that this was what it must have been like to be under siege in a castle in the Middle Ages.  He was hurling himself against the upright play mat, trying to dislodge it.  Boom, boom, boom.  I bolted upright and stared hard at the only thing between me and him, wondering if it would hold. 

He changed tactics.  Suddenly I saw his head pop up over the top of the play mat.  He was jumping vertically straight up in the air over 6 ft. high.  His head consistently would clear the top. He could see me and I him for the nano second that he was air born above it. His eyes said, “Don’t get comfortable. I am coming for you.”

But he couldn’t get up and over it.

I still couldn’t relax, because he wouldn’t give up.  He went back to his first strategy of attacking the base, but this time he used his paws as tools that he worked under the mat to dislodge it.  It was like the Velociraptors in Jurassic Park when they were able to open the doors to the kitchen where the kids were hiding.

And he was in. 

He sauntered over to me like it was all no sweat off his back.  If he had a cigarette and could smoke, he’d have taken a long drag and slowly exhaled at that point.

His cattitude was a smirking, preening “You didn’t really think you could stop me from getting in here, did you? You are no match for me. I am contemplating what your punishment shall be for your tomfoolery but for now, let’s play.” 

I knew that he would not let me sleep.  I knew he would harass me.  So I stood there with my pillow and blanket in hand trying to figure out what to do.  I was contemplating sleeping in the tub in the bathroom.  It was the only other room with a door that was not occupied.  But I thought the better of it and simply spent another sleepless night on the sofa deflecting his attempts to dismember me until he’d had enough and sauntered off.

And now? Well, well, well, Clyde.  Welcome to MY HOME.  The rules are a little different here.  And I sleep in a room with a door.  And there are lots of rooms with lots of doors here.  And there will most certainly be no jumping on the counters or the table.

Which leads us to the Double Sided Sticky Tape.  Because much to my chagrin, no amount of training has slowed his roll.  They’ve been here 6 weeks now.  No amount of “No, Clydes”, physically picking him up and placing him in his cat tree or the floor, clapping my hands, shaking a tin can with coins, and giving him treats when he is sitting where he should be, has worked.

He steals your food.  I watched him, quick as a flash, stick out his paw, claw extended and pick off a piece of Wren’s cheese she was eating. It was like he was at a cocktail party, and was grabbing an hors d’oeuvres from the server with a tray passing by.  Wren yelled, “No, Clyde!”.  Even she is not having it, lol.  No one gets between Wren and her cheese.

He’s broken one glass by knocking it off the counter, and spilled one glass of water that was in a Tervis Tumbler.

I googled how to keep a cat off your counter.

My choices were double sided sticky tape or a motion activated air can that would hiss or make a noise upon sensing his presence on the surface.

I ordered the tape.

When it arrived, I gleefully opened the package, certain that success was soon to be mine.

I placed the first strip of tape on the peninsula counter.  My thought was to just place it on the perimeter. The tape was maybe 3 or 4 inches wide.

He merely jumped right over the tape.  While I was still putting it down.  Then he was curious and started trying to eat it.  That was the moment I knew it was a mistake.

So, I doubled down. I had to up the ante.  It meant putting the tape all over the counter.  I laid it out like a grid. 

I no sooner finish the job when he jumped up on it.

I wish I had recorded his reaction.

He immediately started “hopping” like he was walking across a bed of hot coals.

He got off that counter as fast as he could, which wasn’t as fast as he wanted, since it took him some effort to unstick his paws.

He did not try to go back on the counter.  You might think, success! What mistake? It’s working!

But we could not use the counter.  Covered in sticky tape as it was.  And that just confirmed what I had already known instantly was a mistake.

This would not do.  This is our peninsula counter where we eat and sit at 99% of the time we are in the kitchen.

Time to rip off the tape.

Oh no.  The tape left behind some glue.  All over my counter.  No amount of soap and green scrubby sponge was removing it.  Ernie to the rescue who sent me to Lowe’s to pick up a paint scraper. And that was when I knew it was not only a mistake, but a stupid mistake.

The two of us spent I don’t even know how long scraping glue off our counter.

Clyde wins again.

But not for long.  I am not ready to call it quits yet (see previous blog post about the Morroney Fight/Never Give Up Gene). 

I still have a couple of more aces up my sleeve. 

The air can arrives tomorrow.