Reason number 42 not to let your cat out.

Once again Nick goes out and comes home with post-adventure injuries. Mark lets Nick out when he gets up. By the time I'm up, Nick, who has mellowed over the years, has had enough and is ready for a nap. This morning as he crouched comfortable on the kitchen table (not a usual perch for him) I noticed he had tufts of fur sticking out. Sigh. Another cat fight, which means out there somewhere is another cat someone dumped. I supposed I should appreciate having the "Nicky litmus test" so that I know these animals are out there needing rescue, but really, I prefer to check for tracks in the snow.

When Nick curled up on the cat tree to wash, I noticed he had blood on a back paw, where he had been bitten. Sigh again. Vet trip, or no vet trip?

So far Nick has been:

Abandoned in Danby State Forest
(Found by us on the way home from work)
Fell through the ice on the neighbor's ornamental pond
Got stuck on neighbor's roof
Contracted a fungal infection on his ears (vet trip)
Was bitten by a rat in the face (antibiotics)
Hit by a car (vet trip)
Fell through the ice on the stream (no, he doesn't learn)
Came home with injuries indicative of being caught in a cage trap (swollen nose, facial cuts)
Jumped into the side window of my truck cat and ate cat food that had fallen out of cage traps used to trap cats from a colony that was positive for rabies (vet trip)
Was attacked by crows (vet trip)
Fell out of a tree---any number of times
Got in cat fights---any number of times

I'm sure I've missed something here. Somehow he has managed to reach the respectable age of eight.

While my indoor cats nave beautiful glossy coats, Nick has nicked up ears (therefore his name), scars on his face, and often his white parts are a suspicious shade of gray (he loves to roll in the roadside dirt). During the winter he cleans up nice...I guess from rolling in snow rather than dirt. He also packs on an extra pound and reaches spring looking downright respectable. The rest of the summer it's all downhill.

When we moved from West Danby to Spencer, I was determined to make him an indoor cat. We endured a winter of constant window howling and piss-marking. Finally we gave up and Nick once again became an indoor-outdoor cat.

Nick has always had a habit of finding other homes where he could make himself comfortable. Our second winter here, we found a ziplock bag of photos in our mailbox of Nicky under the Christmas tree. Problem was...it wasn't our Christmas tree. Eventually we learned that every morning, upon being let out, Nick would cross the gorge (!!!!!) to visit our neighbors on the next road. When the snow was deep, he would walk down our road, then up theirs, taking the long route. Our neighbor would worry that he might get nailed by the snow plow, so if Nick was at their house during a storm and it was getting late, either I would walk over to carry him home, or she would give me a ring and I'd drive to get my "kid."

During the summer he often stays out late. I get in my truck and drive the back roads. Usually I won't see a thing on my way out. On the way home, I'll see a flash of eyes in the ditch, stop, and haul my cat out of the weeds. I swear he hears my truck and runs to the shoulder to hitch a ride.

I don't have problems like this with Ivan.

Nick stays closer to home now that he's older and the neighbors obtained a cocker spaniel pup. I continue to hope he will be more and more likely to spend his time sleeping in the sun on the porch. When he was young, we were certain he would have a traumatic and spectacular end. Now however, we dare hope we will find him in a final snooze on a porch chair at age eighteen or so.

On second thought....not likely. This is Nick we're talking about.