Meet Stan…

I’m a little late to the blogging schedule this week as I’ve been training caring for my neighbour’s cat. A family member had a medical emergency which necessitated a mercy dash across the country, and as the other neighbour for whom she cat sits was nowhere to be seen, she pressed her keys into my hands.

I do already know Stan, as he’s visited our apartment a few times and greets Himself when he gets home; I also know he is heavy and doesn’t like being picked up, so I knew I would have to come to some agreement with him. It didn’t take long before we came to an understanding…

Once he was confident I was the replacement feeder, I only had to pick him up once, thereafter he followed me when I called. I provided food at the scheduled times, played with and fussed him, indeed we were getting along jolly well when the other neighbour (the ones with the cat and the habit of “borrowing” food) rang my neighbour – despite knowing she was in hospital at her daughter’s bedside – to report he’d found Stan outside at midnight and ask who had the keys.

You’ll not be surprised to hear that a) they knew I had the keys, also about the medical situation because my neighbour rang to pick them in the picture so they didn’t worry about Stan, and b) that Stan spends more nights outdoors than in – cats being nocturnal ‘n all. I know my neighbour lets Stan in and out upon request rather than install a cat flap, up until bedtime when he decides (generally based upon the weather) whether to stay in or stay out. Also knowing this, annoying neighbours decide to escalate matters with the report of a “bad smell” emanating from the flat. Bad smell my eye…

Yet when I went to hand over the keys, I get a massive sob story about how much work was required, how they were already so busy, yadda yadda yadda. As a result we ended up with one key each – mine being the front door and theirs the patio door – and I was most grateful Stan had proved amenable to training, as we had to add a new routine – him going to sit by his front door, so we could cross the interior hallway into my apartment, then out to the garden through my patio door. I’d leave my patio door open for him to come and go as he was used to, and fortunately he was good enough to give me a little trill as he bounded back in, so I knew he was there and could check if he wanted to go to sleep on his own bed (see the header image), eat his dinner in his own home, or stay with me.

My neighbour is back home now and there’s Stan at my patio door, first thing in the morning, because he’s learned I’m an earlier riser than my neighbour 😉 Apparently he also “asks” to visit me by crossing the hallway to sit on my doormat. He is adorable, but my neighbour and I both know he is playing us like fiddles….

How good are you at training pets…. or should I ask how well have pets trained you?

© Debs Carey, 2024