Tag Archives: keeping prisoners

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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