Thumping the way to exploration
Thep gets a drenching while Phantom explores
IT’S MORNING-TIME. All the cats have had their breakfast, and now soi-cat Thep, his stomach full, heads outside to patrol the soi. Suddenly, I hear a “Thump! Crash!” from the patio, followed by a mighty “Swoosh!”
It sounds serious, and so it is. As I open the door to the patio, Thep rushes back in. He’s terrified and completely wet. In the patio, the faucet and pipes have broken apart, and water is spurting all over the place.
At first, I’m puzzled. In the morning, Thep usually climbs up the fence and begins his patrol on the second floor patio.
As I look at the damaged pipes, I understand.
For some reason, Thep decided to jump on the faucet as a stepping-stone to a turtle tub. From there, he planned to walk along the edge of the tub to the fence, where he would jump up to freedom.
That faucet and the pipes were never intended to handle the weight of a cat who is now close to five kilos. They’re old and unstable anyway, and Thep’s weight must have jolted everything apart.
Poor Thep must have received the full gush of water, an unpleasant experience especially with its unexpectedness.
Now, he refuses to go outside again. He finally leaves through elderly cat Phantom’s bedroom on the third floor, but he stays nearby until he’s sure I’ve turned the water off and it’s safe.
Why did Thep jump on the faucet? Why didn’t he simply go to the fence and jump up the way he usually does? I don’t know. Maybe he was chasing an insect or lizard. Maybe he was just exploring.
Luckily, a friend helps me replace the damaged faucet and pipes. Thank goodness, it’s easy. I’m too tired to handle a major problem. Last night, we already had another thump-thump-thump.
The mini-zoo and I were sleeping when the thump-thump-thump woke us up. Poodle pup Wan-Wan immediately sat up and started a warning growl; even the cats were in alert-mode.
By the way everyone was pointing their noses, I knew immediately where the noise was coming from. It was inside the house.
I wasn’t in the mood for a burglary. When I turned on the lights to see what was happening, I had a big surprise. Phantom was on the second floor.
The old boy lives in his third-floor bedroom, protected from the other cats and the dog by a screen door.
For the past few months, he’s been having a difficult time, with all his health problems. As with anyone who’s sick, he’s fallen into a depression, losing interest in what’s going around. He’s perked up only when I’ve found food he likes, or given him a good brushing.
Now, to my great surprise, the boy had broken out of his bedroom and thumped his way down the stairs.
It looked as if he was thoroughly enjoying himself. He was checking out the smells left by the other cats, rubbing himself against walls, even moving towards the first floor, an explorer at heart.
I was ecstatic. A cat ready to die wouldn’t suddenly begin investigating his environment.
However, alas, it was the middle of the night. I needed to sleep.
“Phantom,” I said. “It’s time to return to your bedroom.” He really didn’t want to go, but he’s a good boy. He started climbing the stairs to the third floor (shuffle, shuffle, shuffle), but his arthritis wouldn’t let him climb all the way up.
I carried him gently to his bedroom, where he relaxed on the bed, a proud cat ready to explore again.
Is Thep ready too? It’s evening, but he hasn’t returned for his evening meal. I hope he’s calmed down enough to explore his way back home.
