I don’t even know… it may have only been a couple/three weeks ago, but it seems a lot longer since we converted the dining room into our bedroom to make way for the renovation work making its way down from the second floor.
However long it’s been is about how long our cat Bink — the member of our menagerie least tolerant of radical change — has stubbornly exiled himself outdoors, refusing not only to so much as set foot inside, but also to bolt the moment he’s spotted outside (even if the spotting is done through a closed window or door).
Worry about him? Of course, but I don’t blame him one bit. The bedroom was his evening domain and the bed his throne and from his perspective it suddenly got shoved into a common area so not worthy a cat of his demeanor and distinction. On top of that there’s all the strange men tromping around and hammering and sawing and nailgunning and such.
In fact, the last time he went AWOL to this degree was a couple years ago when workmen spent the better part of a month painting the place. He HATED that.
Still, it defies logic that Bink would rather fully immerse himself in the life of a hobo cat for so long. After all, wherever he’s spending the nights outdoors can’t be any better than the dining room. But then, what do we know? Maybe he’s outfitted himself with a comfy place. We rarely see him. In the weeks that have passed, I’ve laid eyes on him four — maybe five — times, and that includes last night when I was in the kitchen doing dishes and I happened to glance over out the back window and see Bink chowing down on the bowl of Fancy Feast that Susan’s dutifully leaving out for him. The moment we made eye contact: poof.
The good news is that least he’s sticking around, thanks no doubt to Susan’s morning and evening ministrations.
A week or so ago I set up a webcam in the laundry room, pointing out through a louvered window and screen at the patio table where we keep bowls or water and dry food replenished for him. But the main images it caught from that vantage point during the day were of cats Pepper or Jig having a snack, or maybe Ranger patrolling in the background. At night it was too dark to pick up anything. So this weekend I relocated the set-up outside and left the patio table light on all night and it managed to find Bink sneaking a 3 a.m. nibble.
Then came today’s capture seen at the top of this post. As you can see, Bink looks none the worse for wear. He’s still as big as he’s ever been and his coat looks good. There’s relief in that. For all the preturbment and stress it’s causing Susan and me not having Bink safe inside after dark, the fact is outdoor life seems to suit him.
But it does not suit us. We miss The Bink hogging up the bed that he deigns to let us sleep in, and we’re looking forward to the renovation being completed so we can clean up, get the furniture put back, and then go about the frustrating business of luring Bink back inside (or finding a way to trap him) and beginning the process of welcoming him to his new and improved home.
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