Post Traumatic Party Syndrome

Yesterday we had a small gathering of friends over to the house. Normally, one might call this a housewarming party but, since we’ve lived here for 53 weeks, the house is already pretty warm. Instead, we chose to celebrate only having one house.

Cleaning the house was enough to make Kitten Thunder nervous. I decided they would be safer and saner if I created Thunder Sanctuary in my office. I got a refill for the pheromone ball. I put in the food and water. I put up a cute sign asking people to ask me if they wanted to meet our fuzzy little celebrities. Then, with 15 minutes to go before guests were supposed to arrive, we locked them in.

I should mention that they both love my office and would normally spend all evening in there anyway.

But not THIS evening. First Oliver cried. Then Obi cried. Then Oliver cried. Then Obi cried. Then someone threw someone against the door. Then Oliver cried.

“Hey guys? After you set me on the bed someone accidentally shut the door on their way out. We’re locked in!”

Oliver yowled at the door for three hours. Except when we were out in the driveway and he yowled at us from the window. And once when he yowled so loudly through the heat vent that I thought he’d somehow gotten upstairs where I was giving a tour.

Obi, I think, would have taken a nap after the first three times we ignored his request to come out.

I was sitting on the front porch with a couple people and I glanced through the window and saw the hook of a grey tail go by. The Boy had decided to try and calm Oliver down. He was not anticipating that Kitten Thunder would rush the door.

Since things were slowing down, we just let them stay out. Oliver pounced on me the second I sat down and purred on my lap – eyeing anyone that came near to make sure they knew that I was HIS girl. Obi plunked down in the middle of the room so he could be seen – but not touched. No touching.

So…would they have been like that all evening? Or would Oliver have panicked and managed to race out the front door and down the street, not stopping until he was too far to find his way back? We’ll never know. But next time, I’m locking them in the room in the basement.

***

Why the reference to post traumatic party syndrome, you ask? I have two very clingy kittens today. And I’ve sacrificed a lot of paper towel to the upchuck gods. Oliver can’t figure out why I refused to feed him again.

Right now, Kitten Thunder is snuggled together on the cat shelf. Together they’ll get through this.

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17 responses to “Post Traumatic Party Syndrome

  1. I’m pretty sure they would have yowled just as loudly if you’d locked them out of the office.

  2. Aww mine have learned as soon as the door goes – HIDE – unless they are expecting D or myself to come home. If someone knocks on the door – run to the top of the stairs and peer down – ready to go hide atop the wardrobe or climb into the bathroom cupboard…
    I think it has something to do with 2 weeks of workmen refitting the electrics when they were but a few months old. The two weeks were spent with all the cats living behind the sofa – in a 10cm x 10cm cell.

    • Maybe that’s where we went wrong – we should have made someone ring the bell!

      Oliver and Obi both freak out when they hear a phone ring on TV. They must answer it! Which is weird, since they’ve never heard a phone ring. The Boy and I both go to so many meetings that our phones are always on silence – and even when they aren’t, they don’t ring like real phones.

  3. My 3 younger kittehs keep locking themselves in the bathroom, whereupon they curl up and sleep in a ball on the bathmat like poor abandoned waifs… then shit on the other bathmat as MY punishment for something THEY did. Callie Jean just stares at the door like, “You know they’re in there again, right?”

  4. Closed doors are a total affront to cat dignity. You are an awful person, of course.

  5. I have to have the boy go on cat wrangling patrol when a pizza gets delivered. Sally thinks everyone must be there solely to see her.

    • Do you think pizza delivery guys get nervous when they hear people yelling “BACK. Get BACK. Baaaackbackbackback” before they open the door. I imagine mine is relieved when it’s just a little grey kitty.

      • Usually it’s, “No, Sally, down!” But that means she just got on kitchen table, the better to display her adorable-ness.

  6. Chuck just loves parties. Didn’t everyone come over to give him another lap to sit on.

  7. About a year ago when I had a housewarming party, Esme hid. A few months ago, at my birthday party, she came out and was very social…but only with the men at the party. Such a flirt.

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