Stella and I had had our ups and downs just prior to this incident (I'd pull her leg, she'd claw me, etc.), and after a series of apologies I was thinking that I'd have to give up on the cat relationship. I've always been a dog person anyway.
But after coming back from dinner on a Saturday night, the relationship rekindled. I was finishing a project in my room and it was the perfect atmosphere for her -- jazz, wine, the comforter, of course, (though I insist that she lay on a towel). We had cat nap / laptop time like never before. My housemate, Filip, a cat expert from Finland, came and scooped her up when it was time for me to go to bed. (I draw the line at having the cat sleep over.)
But the evening made too much of an impression, as I thought it might. The next day Stella went out shopping to get me a present. The problem was, it was still alive. As I unpacked groceries I heard a slight bustle at the cat door and an animal sound. Hard to tell if it was a yelp or a meow. One glance down the hallway and I knew that I was getting a delivery. I saw a blur of Stella and something furry in her mouth headed toward my room. I screamed. Thank god Filip was home and the door to my room was closed
Filip headed the cat-squirrel into Sally's room, where Stella dropped the squirrel and it ran into Sally's bathroom.
"Close the door!" I yelled helpfully from the kitchen in my teacher voice. In fact I had Filip close the bathroom and bedroom doors. I wasn't going to be tormented by cat-with-squirrel on my Sunday afternoon.
A couple times Filip and I met in the hallway between our rooms. What was going on in there? "Should I check?" he asked. We wondered if the squirrel was still alive; what was it like to spend four hours in a small room with someone who wanted to kill you? Etc. etc.
Eventually Sally came home and common sense prevailed. She bent over Stella, half scolding, half with humor: "Now what am I going to do with a squirrel in my bathroom?" Then she picked up the cat and deposited her outside. Step one. Next, Filip and Sally began to corral the squirrel. The bathroom had been upset. Things floated in the toilet. Sally's earring plate was overturned. It was an active scene.
After a couple time out's, when Sally and Filip returned to the kitchen sweating, the squirrel was somehow cornered into a cat carrier (one of my earlier ideas, I must say), encouraged by two long yard sticks (Sally is a seamstress among many other talents). The squirrel scratched at Sally's finger tips through the carrier. She let it out near the street and it leaped onto a nearby tree. I imagined it would sleep well that night.
After that the cat door was discontinued. Sally said that Stella was abusing it. The squirrel wasn't the only offering (though the only live one). Stella won out over a pesky mockingbird and there was another, smaller bird.
Stella was depressed for a while, but she's adapted and regained her cat step, though with less mojo than during the hunting sprees. (After the mockingbird incident I saw her on a victory lap in the middle of the next street.) Hopefully the squirrel has survived. And that was a Stella Day.
