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The Watering Can.

Summer 1999.

The cat sitter came to feed and water and play with the cats a day and a half before. This time, when she opened the door, Faust and Brontë didn't come running to greet her. Not thinking too much of it, she put the mail and newspapers on the kitchen table and refilled the food and water bowls. Still no cats.

Becoming a little anxious, she checked all the rooms and started looking under furniture. She soon found a wide-eyed Faust under the bed, but still no Brontë. Eventually, under the couch there was the missing cat -- with her head inside a metal watering can.

Fearing the worst, the sitter grabbed one of Brontë's legs and -- much to her surprise and relief -- the cat abruptly sprang to life (but couldn't do much with a watering can as big as herself on her head).

Hauling Brontë out from under the couch, the sitter tried to free her from the watering can. No amount of twisting or pulling (within reason) was working.

The sitter tried calling the owner's boyfriend (who hadn't been trusted to care for the cats), but he was on the other side of Houston and found the situation too amusing to offer helpful advice.

Not finding any tools in the apartment appropriate for freeing a cat from a watering can, the sitter decided to take Brontë to her own house to try wire cutters.

With Brontë wrapped in a towel, she left the apartment.

Driving a car with a manual transition while cradling a cat and a watering can was something of an adventure in itself.

Once wire cutters were obtained the sitter was able to enlarge the opening in the watering can enough for Brontë to pull out her head. Brontë's recovery was swift; she promptly inhaled a can of tuna and, to this day, appears none the worse for the experience.

as far as we can tell, brontë suffered no lasting damage from the ordeal, although the sitter did experience a bit of emotional trauma.

we will never know why brontë put her head in the watering can, but our best guess is that she and faust were chasing / playing with a bug and when the bug entered the can, brontë went after it. we suspect she did not learn anything from the experience.

May 26, 2002 in Bronte | Permalink


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I really enjoyed your site. I have 4 cats myself. They are my pride and joy.
And you better have that catnip rehab clinic's name on hand cause I just might need it.

Posted by: Michael Jackson | Jan 25, 2006 12:36:46 AM