No, Clyde: Part 2

Some of you may recall one of my previous blog posts, titled “No, Clyde!”

In that post, I introduced you all to Clyde, aka, Spawn of the Devil. 

Clyde is my daughter’s cat and when she, her husband, and their daughter came to live with us temporarily, that meant the cats too.  Luna is their other cat and descended to this earth from Heaven.

They are all a package deal, though I very much wish we could unbundle them.  And by them, I mean Clyde.  Just Clyde.  Hades is missing its mascot and I think it’s time he went back.

That is not an option, however.  So, I need to figure out a way for me to live in my own house in peace and harmony with him. I mean, I think it is still my own house because Clyde is certain that it’s his. 

Ok, maybe that is asking too much.  How about neutral coexistence with full respect of the boundaries?  My boundaries.  Boundaries are something Clyde believes do not apply to him.  Although, he has plenty of them for himself.

My boundaries:

Boundary number 1: Stay off the counters and the table.

We left off in the previous blog with my intention to use air cans to keep Clyde off the counters and the table.  Everything else I had tried previously hadn’t worked. 

Anytime you are eating or preparing food, Clyde hops right up.  And it’s not to say hi.  It’s to steal your food.  He will boldly reach out a paw right in front of you and faster than you can say “hell no” he has snagged your food.

He also just likes to hang out on the counters or table.  He especially likes it when the dishwasher is running because the counter above it gets warm.

I decided against the air cans after doing a little more research on them.  Apparently, these devices are sensitive and will go off at the slightest movement, including your own.  In other words, it doesn’t filter out a human from a cat.  So this air can would be going off rather frequently.  And they are pricey. And we’d need like 3 of them.

Some of you lovely folks suggested I try a water bottle. 

I can report that it is effective in getting him off the counters and table, but it has been more than a few months now and it is not a permanent deterrent.  I had hoped that he’d get the message and stay off them.  But he remains undeterred and continues to jump up.

He is so bold, that he will lay there and stare at me while I point the water bottle at him.  He doesn’t flinch, except to maybe squint his eyes. He knows what’s coming and he chooses to brave it out. I am forced to fire. Only then does he get down. 

Only to hop back up 3 minutes later.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

I hate to concede defeat, but I think I have to accept the reality.  He will never not jump up on the counters and table.  He is how the good Christian Brothers at West Catholic High School described my dad upon expelling him: incorrigible. My current solution? A negotiation of sorts where-in I win some, and he wins some.

He gets locked in his room anytime we are cooking and eating.

He gets to hang out on the counters and table anytime I am not around or am in another room and have no idea what he is doing.

And that time he had dried cat poop on his tail?  Total Clorox disinfection of every surface in the kitchen.

Boundary 2: The Sofa is Mine

Just like Clyde thinks that the house is his, he also thinks all the furniture in it is his also.  Just because I am sitting on the sofa, my sofa that I bought and paid for, I should not assume I have his permission to do so.  He invariably will decide that he wants to sit on the sofa any time I sit there.

He first jumps up next to you and gives you a stare.  If you fail to respond to his first directive, he will then jump up on to the back of the sofa, directly behind your head.  He will sit there for a few seconds to see if you will then respond to that maneuver.  If somehow, you think you can tolerate sitting there with a cat directly behind your head and decide not to move, he reaches out his paw and taps you on the head, claws retracted.  And if you fail to respond to that, the claws come out and you get another head swat.  He feels completely justified of course because he deigned to give you fair warning.

Boundary 3: The Living Room is Mine

You then move from the sofa to the love seat.  Clyde has decided that he doesn’t want you sitting there either and so jumps up on to the love seat next to you. 

Lather, rinse, repeat the sofa experience.

I end up retreating to the family room which has a door which I firmly close shut.

Boundary 4: The Bedroom is Mine

In the middle of the night, usually around 2 or 3 am, Clyde will decide he wants to come into our bedroom.  The door is closed, because, well, you know, Clyde lives with us.

He doesn’t care the door is closed.  He assaults the door.  I imagine it must be how they felt in the Middle Ages when their castles were under siege.

He awakens us to the sound of him clawing the door.  He puts his paws under the door and pulls on the door trying to get it open.  Scratch! Scratch! Scratch! Bang! Bang! Bang!  It is so loud, it’s impossible to sleep through.  I get up to lock the door because I am afraid he is smart like a Velociraptor and will figure out how to open the door.  The siege continues for a good 15 minutes or so before he decides to call it quits.  Until the next night.  Because with Clyde, hope springs eternal and his supreme confidence in his abilities to succeed at whatever he puts his mind to, is endless.

I count the months until I get to say goodbye to Clyde.  But then, saying goodbye to Clyde means saying goodbye to his people I love and adore. 

So I say, bring it Clyde.  I can take it. 

This package deal is too precious to pass up and is well worth whatever mayhem you’ve got.