Cold Kitty

This handsome fellow—nicknamed Gigi by the kids upstairs—joined our backyard wildlife preserve sometime the past winter, when Jay the orange Flash cat brought him home from...wherever cats go to meet other cats. We didn't really sign up for two cats. Actually, we didn't exactly sign up for one cat, but I kinda did when I trapped Jay and got him neutered.

I'm back in JC now, and last night after I signed off from work in Burbank, I heard a pathetic mewing outside. It was Gigi, mewing sadly at the cat house I made last year. It's a plastic crate full of foam board insulation taped in tightly, the floor covered with straw. The door is a hole I cut with a box cutter, with a half a flower pot stuck in and taped. There's a bit of shower curtain covering the door to keep out the rain.

I thought maybe Jay would let Gigi burrow into the little crate with him when it's cold out, but I guess that's not how this works. Jay occasionally batted a paw out the shower curtain entrance when Gigi would try to get in.

Poor Gigi.

Mew. Mew. Mew.

Ugh, I felt terrible for this sad little kitty. Not that little. Gigi has put on a lot of pandemic weight. I think it might be our fault for feeding him so much, but it might just be something that happens to outdoor cats in the winter. I'm no cat expert—still learning.

I went downstairs into the basement and found another plastic crate, emptied it out, found my heat gun and box cutter, cut a rectangular entrance into it, filled the crate with straw, and put it next to the other crate.

This is a real low-rent cat house. I didn't have the materials or time to insulate this house the way I had the other, and I don't have the fancy entrance on this one, but I figured it was better than nothing.

Gigi examined the new crate, then stalked off. I went to bed, figuring I'd done all I could. But I wondered if maybe I'd cut the entrance too small. Maybe Gigi couldn't fit through the door.

This morning, I dragged myself out of bed at first light as I do every day in JC, because that's when the backyard cats expect breakfast (a cat's breakfast being a totally different thing from a dog's breakfast). Jay waited expectantly by the window, waiting for me to trade him a treat for petsies.

But now Gigi. Where was Gigi?

Gigi slowly sauntered out of his new house, taking a morning stretch.

Success.