The hatches have been battened down, the drawbridge has been lifted, the cat flap has been barricaded, a litter tray installed, and the crunch has come. The furry black intruder has nicked his last meal on our territory, and has been sent into exile.

The poor olds cats had been suffering his saucy sneaky visits to their plates with great stoicism for a while. Then it became clear that the nip 'n' nibble moments had become something more. We kept seeing a black tail sneaking behind the curtain to the patio door - while we were sitting watching TV, of all the cheek. Then my husband came in and found it had been sitting on the front room window ledge. What cheek.. Then one day I looked at the old ginger boy and his face looked swollen. I touched his ear and was told off very swiftly. He was clearly suffering from something to do with his ear. So off to the vets we went.

The vet felt him gently and said he probably had an abscess and they would need to keep him in and drain it and dress it. So we left the poor old chap.
When we collected him the next day - very dopey as he had to have 2 injections because the nurse said he was a "bit swipey" when they tried to put a needle in his leg - the vet said that it wasn't an abscess but a ruptured ear drum "probably from a fight". A ruptured ear drum! Poor old chap, he can't hear anything anyway, so he must be a sitting target to a black cat at night, especially as he's a light ginger, which must make him glow like a beacon in the dark. He wouldn't stand a chance against a slow moving assailant, let alone a dark destroyer coming out of the night at him. He'd also had half his face shaved, leaving him with a cross between a lion's mane and a poodle cut. Not good for the street cred.

So that was it, Operation Shut Down.

After they got used to the idea that they didn't have to keep looking over their shoulders while they ate in case anything came through the cat flap, the moggies relaxed amazingly. At first they were a bit dodgy about the litter tray, but after they realised that it was OK to use it when no-one is there to let them out, they clearly quite like it. If they are out and want to come in they now rattle the cat flap like a knocker and a human rushes to answer the door (moving the impediments first, hopefully). If not, they sit on the patio door mat and stare through until we feel the eyes burning into the backs of our necks.

Sparky from next door has also adapted quite well. She has perfected the let-me-in flap rattle, and also the silent mew through the glass patio door - so touching. She did have a dicey turn when she thought she could oil her way out past my inventive barrier of battery charger, block plane and paint tin. She got the tip of her paw out, then thought again, but couldn't get the paw back in. I heard a furious sequence of growls, miaows, hisses and yowls that was the feline equivalent of those car alarms that go through a variety of bells, whistles, sirens and wails when they go off. I flew out to the kitchen, set her free and now when she goes past the flap she gives it a growl to warn it to leave her alone.

The cats have also relaxed enough to start playing with all their catnip toys which I now realise they hadn't done for a while. And the old fellow even managed to get up to his one time favourite spot on the front window ledge which I had thought he had abandoned. Now I realise he had been driven out.

So, for now we are in peace and tranquillity with no furry marauders. I wonder how long our memories will last before the old boy starts going out looking for trouble, and we forget to arrange the barricade.

At least we will, hopefully, have a quiet Christmas - who knows what, or who. the New Year will bring.

(c) Thelma Mitchell 12/2004