Amoeba’s Lorica: Pwnership

It is written, there shall be no human habitation that is exempt from possession by a cat …

Hmph. At least the previous administration had the common courtesy to claim station at the foot of the bed …

When Your Friendly Neighborhood Amoeba and his Dame pulled stakes in Hawai‘i, eons ago (January 2024), the property owner who had graciously shared his quarters with us was left behind.

Necessarily … for even if it had been possible for us to induce the master into a cat carrier, and to navigate all the paperwork and travel mercies needed to get that carrier and its contents to San Juan Island from the middle of the Pacific Ocean without somebody getting shredded for deir pains, it would have all gone for naught. A homesick kitty is no fun to be around (vide infra). We would have counted ourselves fortunate to hear news of a yellow tabby last seen leaving Puget Sound on an oil barge headed for Kawaihae.

We are reliably informed that His Nibs has secured a fresh set of domestic servants within the broader confines of his territory, leaving behind his former domicile and its cat-phobic proprietress. Not to mention the name “Fluffybutt”.

For whatever reason, the Global Cat Distribution Network had not seen fit to equip the territory onto which YFNA and DA landed with a resident seeking butler and maid. Cats were observed in the neighborhood, sometimes even inspecting the infrastructure, but these showed no interest in the new human residents. These animals appeared to be satisfied with their present arrangements, and were doing border inspections to guard against the intrusion of dogs and other unwelcome immigrants. This was a matter of considerable sadness … it having been forgotten that it took years for the yellow tabby to deign to accept our obeisance.

Eventually, however, the GCDN got wind of the matter, and sent a human agent to correct the oversight. This agent, a Kat lady, came bearing a 4-year-old tuxedo molly, complete with microchip, up-to-date shots, a basket of necessaries, and a high-tech cat door, all needing relocation because the lady had committed the one act that the GCDN recognizes as conferring, nay demanding, exemption from cat occupation of a human residence.

She had gotten an unapproachable dog.

The introductions were made, and all seemed to be going well. Then, the agent left … and suddenly, it dawned on Lady Tuxedo that This. Is. Not. My. Territory!!! Upon which the creature dashed under the sofa and did not come out again. Except at night, when it would prowl the house, crying. Oh … and eating from the tower of dry food, drinking from the cat bowl (or the toilet), and using the cat box (that last a sign of the presence of Divine Providence).

After a few days of this, the agent returned, captured the cat, and ushered it outside, where it promptly disappeared into the bushes. Your Friendly Neighborhood Amoeba expected that it would quickly avail itself of the local, San Juan Island, equivalent of that oil barge to Kawaihae, and that, if we heard of it ever again, it would be from the agent to whose house Ms Molly had returned.

This did not happen; evidently we had, by this time, held Her Highness captive, and [ahem] fed, long enough that she chose to remain nearby rather than brave the Truly Unknown. A cat trap was needed to bring her back into the house and under the sofa, where we resolved that she would remain until she got the message that YFNA and DA did not bark. At least, most of the time.

A few days later, we discovered that friend cat had migrated from under the sofa to under the bed. And then, one night, friend cat decided that her place was on top, and that the humans could join her if they paid her the appropriate attentions, and would migrate to the edges of the mattress to allow the property’s new owner to occupy her proper station (vide supra).

Having established that the oil barge to Kawaihae was no longer an option, kitty’s desire to be outside was, at last, granted (despite the continued malfunctioning of that high-tech cat door), for which service she rewarded us with the first fruits of her labors – a vole, captured from the large wild stocks in the garden, dispatched, and laid under the bed (from whence it was promptly removed). She quickly demonstrated that she was adept at vole depopulation, so much so that she has been dubbed Artemis, the maiden huntress. To judge from the barking choruses of the foxes, and the agitated croaking and swooping of the ravens, this activity has not gone unnoticed in the local critter community, and early signs are that the competition is unwelcome.

Anyway. There is now a lap cat in YFNA’s household, and the Amoeba and his Lady are prepared to genuflect in the goddess’s presence, and do her bidding.

Perhaps the local wildlife, imperfectly appreciative of the goddess’s abilities and charms, will let us keep her.