Blackie, parkour cat.

On 6-February, we trapped our associate cat, Blackie.  A day we're never gonna forget, I promise you.  

He'd hurt his paw; I suspect he'd got frostbite, and/or sprained his paw, which dangled unhappily for a few days.  I consulted our vet, explaining that he was partly tame, not a purely feral cat.  We set an appointment for Tuesday.  

Monday night, we trapped him, not knowing what we were in for.  

=-= Parkour time =-= 

We'd trapped tomcats before, usually to get them fixed [Little Guy] or to the vet [Ollie, fka Bad Kitty]. Our cats Jack and Tiny Cat, we'd just stuffed into carriers; they were born outside but mostly tame by then. 

Blackie was different. 

Not house-trained, and somehow didn't grok a litter box either!  

He parkoured all over the tiny half-bath.  Got onto the light fixtures on the mirror cabinet --  three times!  Peed himself there the first time.  :/  Poor baby, he had so much dust on him, especially his face.

Of course this was after 1am, so my SO had to help Blackie down the first time. 

=-= Boxes and feces =-=

Blackie pooped in the corner as he huddled as far from the door as possible... then he parkoured up all flat surfaces.  Plus he opened the mirror cabinet to throw anything he touched.  

I worried that he'd clocked himself with something, frankly. 

He threw a box into one litter box and buried the other with cardboard.  [I put cardboard on three sides of litter boxes to minimize thrown debris.]  I offered him a new box to hide in: nope! and a chair to hide under: yes. 

=-= Litter? =-=

Blackie also peed on a towel I'd thrown over the toilet seat, hoping he might like it. 

After he sat in the sink and pooped over its edge, I explained to him that litter went onto poop, and demonstrated, pouring litter over his poop.  [The chair blocked me; I couldn't reach the poop, nor move the chair due to my splint.]  I also poured litter into the litter box.  

He seemed to take this advice to heart, using one litter box Wednesday morning.  I suspect he also wanted to rub his feet clean on the grass.  They were caked with litter.  

=-= Leaving =-= 

Bent out a light bulb on Tuesday, his second night; my SO thinks he cut a back paw on the fixture, but somehow Blackie didn't break the bulb!  

During Tuesday, I began asking Blackie if he wanted to leave.  I'd open the bathroom door, and the house side door, and invite him to go back outside.  Clearly going from a trap-cage into a little room was Bad.  Its litter boxes smelled like other kitties, with no trees to climb, no good hiding places.

He wanted to leave, but outside was windy and loud, so also scary. 

After two nights of parkour, by Wednesday it was quiet outdoors, and Blackie clearly chattered that he did want to go, thank you... he'd had a really large breakfast too.  Under an hour later, he was on the back step, happy to sniff our fingers and eat treats.  

=-= Aftermath =-=

Blackie's paw has a pale white spot, up on the top, with missing fur -- right to his skin?  I cannot tell you.  We never got him to the vet.  

He likes me, and chatted with me the most during his imprisonment.  His paw stopped dangling, possibly by Monday, as he didn't seem to favor it.  I hope the fur will grow back.

He still chats with us.  He is a squeaky cat.  

During his time inside, Blackie was very hissy.  He got less hissy, and eventually almost squeaky again.  

But I couldn't pick him up; I still cannot turn my left wrist, not until my next surgery in March.  He didn't want us nearer, he didn't like Allen for carrying him in the trap, and putting him into the carrier seemed improbable.  Blackie is a largish tomcat, at least 15 pounds.  He was clearly much less tame than we'd presumed. 

Wherever we go next, we'll take him.  Even of he stays just an outdoor cat.  I'm not sure we have the spoons to try for him becoming an outdoor cat with indoor privileges, like Jack and Sweetpea are.