It could have been worse. Not everyone was thrilled with the camping experience, to be honest, but overall it was a good holiday. And what were we expecting from two cats?
DAY 1
Teddy: Thank Gawd we’ve stopped. I need to pee.
Izzie: That litterbox is mine and I’m not sharing.
Teddy: So where am I supposed to go?
Izzie: Don’t know, don’t care.
Once the trailer was leveled, we opened the door and were delighted to find there was no drama. Teddy actually came out from under the bed almost immediately and Izzie wasn’t cursing and calling us names. So, that went well. We treated ourselves to several beers, directly after making it crystal clear that Teddy can use the litterbox.
DAY 2
Izzie: It’s about time you got out of bed. The water bowl is empty, and I can see the bottom of the food bowl. I hope this isn’t an indication of how this debacle is going to proceed. Also, Teddy pooped in the litter box and now I’m not going to use it.
Teddy had slept with us all night which was a little confusing because at home the bed is sacred ‘Izzie’ domain, whether she’s on it or not, and Teddy would never presume. Could this be the beginning of a shift in power?
DAY 3
Teddy: I’m bored. If I can’t patrol the yard I may as well just eat. No? I’m disappointed, Mom. Fine. How about a handful of treats?
Izzie: You’re going to get fatter. I think I’ll just start the bullying now.
Teddy: I’m not fat – it’s all muscle. Just ask Slinky.
Izzie: Your special relationship with Slinky isn’t exactly a Fight Club like mine though, is it? So, don’t be bragging until you’ve gone 3 rounds with Baloshi.
Teddy: If all your blood and scars are any indication, you aren’t doing all that good at winning in Fight Club, now are you? I’m standing behind my muscles.
DAY 4
A precarious truce has developed. Mostly because there is only one sofa that provides a good view outside*. It’s so heartwarming to see them sitting side by side – if only this could last when we get home.
Izzie: You are hogging the sofa. Move over.
Teddy: I’m not hogging anything. Not a single hair is past the halfway point.
Izzie: I didn’t say you were past the halfway point, I said you are hogging, which means you are too close to the halfway point. Move over.
Teddy: Nope! I am well within my borders.
Izzie, erupting into a blizzard of slaps: Move. Over. There!
Teddy, hitting her once on top of the head with a solid whack: NO!
The Viking: For fuck’s sake, Izzie! Knock it off!
DAY 5
The Viking: Teddy!!! Your poop can’t possibly need to be buried halfway to China! Stop digging in the litter box already!
Me: Izzie!! Stop digging in the litter! We can’t hear the TV!
The Viking: AGAIN?! You were just in there 5 minutes ago! Stop all the digging!
Me: Now I know why their water bowl is always empty.
The Viking: Look at all the litter on the floor!
Me: It’s like Competitive Pee/Pooping! They are going to wear out the bottom of the litterbox.
DAY 6
We had to go into town and buy a few groceries. We left some windows open and hoped Izzie wouldn’t entertain other campers with her deafening yodels. She can be very convincing when she screams. We were deliriously happy when we got back and there wasn’t a crowd of people huddled around the trailer, calling PETA.
DAY 7
Me: Where’s Teddy? I haven’t seen him for a long time. He’s not in our bed.
Teddy has staked out our bed as his own and is refusing to back down. Izzie can sleep on the bed too, but as soon as she gets all bossy and angry, he kicks her off.
The Viking: I don’t know. Teddy! Come here.
Me rattling the treat jug: Teddy!
Izzie was sitting over by the litter box but as soon as she hears the treats rattling, she comes running, shouting her enthusiasm. And then………Teddy comes out of the litter box.
Me: For fuck’s sake, Izzie! How long have you had him pinned inside the litterbox?! No treats for you!!
DAY 8
I’m being lazy, laying in bed. I’m not sleeping but not really ready to face the day just yet. Until…..
The Viking: Izzie!! Stop chewing on those charging cords!
About five minutes later….
The Viking: Izzie!!! Stop clawing the sofa!
Not even 5 minutes later…..
The Viking: Izzie!! Stop slapping Teddy!
It’s obvious that Izzie needs some attention – being cooped up in the trailer day after day is starting to get to her. We decide to pull out the harness and leash and take her outside. Getting the harness on her is a two-person job and a bit of a rodeo but we managed.
Outside, she lays down on the outdoor rug in front of our chairs and things appear to be going well. And then someone comes out of the laundry building about 25 meters from our site and she totally loses shit! She bolts to the trailer door, climbs the screen all the way to the top of the door and when she runs out of room she vaults off the screen to the ground, hitting the stairs in the process. It all happened so fast we didn’t have time to react. I grabbed her when she hit the ground and took her inside. She didn’t appear to be in pain, so I gave her and Teddy some treats and left her alone to recover.
Teddy: Who’s the ‘fraidy cat now?
DAY 9
We were forced to break out the cat toys. Izzie is becoming unruly. Teddy just lays around, looking out the windows, napping on our bed. He’s a fucking joy! Izzie is the exact opposite and her Feral Side is starting to show. We have a fishing pole toy and a wand toy. Guess which one Teddy got? That’s right. Neither. I even took Teddy into the bedroom and closed the door. Thirty seconds later, she was outside the door shouting death threats while she was chewing on the fishing pole toy that she got away from The Viking. Teddy couldn’t concentrate and who could blame him? Sigh.
DAY 10
Me: Teddy! Quit clawing the carpet!
I forgot his cardboard scratch board at home.
Izzie, chasing him down to rain hellfire slaps on his head: Don’t. Claw. The. Carpet. Dumbass!
Me: Izzie! I don’t need any help from you!!
The Viking takes Teddy to the Cat Tree and gives a thorough demonstration on how to scratch it rather than the carpet.
DAY 11
It’s totally dark. I’m guessing somewhere around 3:00 in the morning. The trailer is rocked by two huge thumps followed by a hair-raising, high-velocity sound that could be a torpedo launched from the living room to the bedroom. The Viking and I bolt upright in bed, shocked out of sleep. There are screams – most likely from Izzie because she’s a Screamer – and a long, high-pitched ‘No..No..No..No..’– probably from Teddy because somehow he has learned how to talk. Despite getting catapulted from sleep, we both become instant cheerleaders.
The Viking: Get her Teddy!
Me: Slap her harder, Teddy!
The Viking: Good boy, Teddy! Don’t take any more of her shit!
Me: Stop screaming Izzie – you’ve had this coming for days!
Does this make us bad Cat Parents? Probably. But any jury of our Cat Parent peers who have met Izzie would exonerate us in a nano-second.
DAY 12
A rainstorm rumbles by and drops a fairly substantial amount of rain. Izzie loses her shit. Again. Oddly enough, Teddy is just chilling, completely unaffected by the downpour. After giving it some thought, we decide it’s because when it’s raining at home, Teddy invariably has to shelter in place – not by choice, mind you, but because Izzie sits at the cat door refusing to let him inside – so the sound of rain pelting the vehicles and trailer is nothing new. For Izzie though, this is her first experience of the deafening sound that heavy rain makes on the trailer roof.
She ends up under the bed.
Teddy: ‘Fraidy Cat, again?
DAY 13
The Viking and I are pre-packing for our departure tomorrow morning. We want to fall out of bed and be on the road in half an hour. Teddy is suspicious and uneasy. He doesn’t like change and keeps giving me huge, sad eyes, like he’s going to his own execution. We reassure him but he knows something is up. Izzie doesn’t give a shit.
DAY 14
7:00am – Zoom! Zoom!! Izzie is flying from the bedroom to the living room, getting impressive airtime from the stairs in the bedroom. Zoom, zoom, zoom, zoom!! Back and forth over and over and over again.
The Viking: For fucksake, Izzie!! We’re trying to get shit done, here!
So. We’re home. Both cats disappeared for hours, probably doing their rounds, sizing up the situation after two weeks gone. The Viking and I have Vacation Hangover.
*There are various other places they can lay down and watch outside, but it seems the sofa is the premium observation place.
