For the past 11 years, my cat Sophie has had free reign of my house, whichever house that has been. When I lived by myself years ago, she slept with me every night; I couldn’t even close my bedroom door without hearing her cries of protest. When I got married, she slowly began to change her habits. There were some nights where I would wake to find her snuggled by my pillow, but more times than not, she slept by herself in the spare bedroom.
This weekend, all of that changed. On Friday we moved all of her paraphernalia, her self-cleaning litter box, her food and water, and her scratching post, down to the basement. She doesn’t spend a lot of time down there usually, but it was time to move her. We’ve tried really hard to keep our upstairs nice and clean. But it is nearly impossible when you have an eight pound furball who sheds black tufts of hair everywhere she goes. It’s not just the hair of course, I’m actually quite used to that. But there are other issues that make it necessary for us to move her downstairs for a while.
So we figured the basement would be a good place for her. It has lots of nooks and crannys where she can rest and there are pet beds and cozy blankets for her to sit on. We’re buying her a window perch so she can sit in the window and stare at the birds all day long. She can even sit on the couch and watch TV with us if she’d like, which she wasn’t able to do before. (I’m sure she feels she was really missing out on that!) Besides, we spend more time down there than we do upstairs so really, we’ll be seeing her even more!
The problem is getting her to actually stay in the basement. We took her downstairs thinking she’d be curious and spend some time checking out her new home. Instead, she immediately made a beeline to the top of the stairs, so we learned very quickly that we’d have to keep the door closed. That first day, she spent most of her time sitting on the stairs where, I presume, she was waiting for the perfect moment to sneak out. The last couple of days have been much better – she has found a couple of spots that she likes and she even comes out and sits with us on the couch. As long as Oscar doesn’t start chasing her around the room, she’s fine.
The only issue we’re still having happens when we go to bed. She sits on the stairs where she can peek under the door and see us moving around. And then the meowing starts. I’m not talking the sweet, soft little meows either. I’m talking the loud cries of despair and anguish. The ones that surely mean that someone is coming after her with a knife and we have to go save her!
It wouldn’t be a huge deal except for the fact that I often have to get up in the middle of the night to make a quick potty run. And every time I do, and I do mean every time, she is there waiting to remind me of how she has been abandoned and how her life is so difficult. It’s starting to wear on me. I liken it to a mother listening to her baby cry. I just want to go make it better, I just want her to stop meowing because it breaks my heart. But, as the CPA reminds me, it won’t be doing her or us any good. The basement is her new home and it’s not like she’s roughing it or anything. The sooner she gets used to it, the better for all involved.
So the question is: what do I do? Do I just grin and bear it, knowing that eventually she’ll get used to her new home? Or do I just start wearing ear plugs to bed?
If this is any indication of what it’s like to have a baby crying in the house, I’m in trouble.
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