"Your Cat Sounds Like A Pigeon.."

Stilton is still stuck in the bathroom.

I am up at 9:00 am and it is pouring.  I brave it with my 4 dollar bodega umbrella throughout the East Village to the far end of Union Square to Petco.  I was assured by the sales associate on the phone that they had an abundance of gates, all types and all sizes.  They do not. 

I bother Jaime via text for a possible answer to this problem, I make my way over to Kip's Bay and Petco location number two.  Where they have been equally assuring that they have what sounds like any pet gate on the market.  They do not.

However, they do have one that will fit the kitchen entrance which at this point is good enough.  Sixty dollars later, I miraculously grab a cab feeling pretty good. 

Back at the apartment the set up is extremely simple.  Draping a piece of cloth over the gate so neither cat can see the other and only get the smell I sit down to apply for jobs.  And to order the original gate we wanted which I assume we still do because it cuts the apartment in half, giving Stilton more room than just the kitchen.

The next fifteen minutes are a blur as Angus catches a peek of this new squatter through a piece of cloth pulled aside from the gate.  He turns blacker than normal, puffs himself up, hair on end and  lets out a guttural growl that truly makes me terrified.  For myself.  At  this point screw Stilton, every man for himself!

Angus grows tired and scampers away.  As I approach the gate I see Stilton's head peaking over, front two  paws pulling himself up.  He sees me and dismounts.  For a second.  Before launching himself clear over the gate to my horror.  I grab his furry, squiggly body and toss him in the bathroom.

Exasperated, and utterly hopeless, I call Angus' vet, Stilton's vet, and a variety of cat specialists from around the country with some but little new information on my side, I try and commit myself to the fact that Stilton will be fine in the bathroom until after the weekend when I can talk to these "experts' more and figure something out.

Jaime arrives home from a very long day at work, made all the longer by my incessant texting and doomsday updates.  She promptly shit rigs the gate vertically, covers it and brings Stilton into the kitchen.  I feel the fool.  I probably am. 

He cannot be left there all night though in case something happens, since it is a two man job just to get in and out of kitchen now.  Around midnight I move him and his box, food, water and carrier back to the bathroom. 

- Your cat sounds like a pigeon.

She says later after exiting the bathroom.  She says so with conviction.  I frown.

Around 6:30 am she wakes me

-Sam, Stilton is crying

-Uggghhh

I am up and in the bathroom.  He needs me to pet him.  Then he feels comfortable to eat and he must have been hungry.  Chomping down his medicated food for bladder health.  He seems fine and I head back to Jamie and Angus and bed.  I close the door..

-Meuw

Damnnit.  He does sound like a goddamn pigeon.