So…I meant to just write one post about Floofenstein — pronounced Floof-in-stine — but this one got pretty long, and it really only covers the “prequel.” So, I’m going to break up this introduction into as many parts as necessary to keep any one part from getting too long. With that said, let’s dive in.
I didn’t think we’d be welcoming a new family member this soon after losing Bumbledore. However, he, apparently, had other ideas — more on that later.
So, allow me to introduce Floofenstein, AKA Floofs, or Floofers. We’re pretty sure he was a stray cat — because he certainly wasn’t feral — and is an absolute sweetheart. I call him a rockstar because he reminds me of an 80s hair band… or Rum Tum Tugger.
Before joining our family
Jim first spotted Floofers 2.5-3 months ago on a rainy day. One of our neighbors down the road has been trying to catch him for nearly a year. But I saw him about 2 months ago walking down the sidewalk as we were driving away from home. Jim stopped so I could roll down my window and tell Floofenstein how gorgeous he is.
Fast forward to February 25. Floofers walked onto our raised deck and froze when he saw me through the sliding glass door. I was delighted to see him until I noticed that he had a chunk of something hanging from the left side of his face. In the time it took me to process what I was seeing, he had already run to the corner of the house. That chunk? It was skin; the poor boy was seriously injured.
It was a few days before we saw Floofs again. If Ritz hadn’t been sick — and taking up so much of my concern — I probably would have been far more worried about Floofers. But, I did put food out, and it kept disappearing; I hoped Floofenstein was getting some of it. We caught sight of him a couple of times, but I didn’t get a good look at him until March 9.
As you can see — if you chose to open the accordion — the photos showed what I already knew: Floofers was injured. And I wanted to help him.
I got an even better look at him on Monday (3/10) as he sat on our front step while I talked to him through the open door. He surprised me by staying and seemed to be actively listening to me as I told him that I wanted to help him get better. But he wouldn’t get any closer while I had the door open. It was enough, though, for Jim and I to decide to put the trap out.
Tuesday morning, we set out the trap with wet food, which remained untouched. So, I changed tactics. On Wednesday evening, I put a bowl of the kibble that had been disappearing right outside the trap entrance, under the raised door. The bowl was empty in the morning. On Thursday evening, I put the bowl further inside, requiring Floofers to put his head in the trap, but letting him keep his body out of it. Once again, the bowl was empty in the morning.
On Friday evening, I put the bowl all the way at the back of the trap, against the far “wall.” That was a mistake. After Dante’s attention at the window alerted us that someone was there, we watched Floofers walk into and back out of the trap several times to get food without once touching the activating lever. Did I mention we have a doorbell camera?
Anyway, once Floofs left, I went outside and moved the food bowl right up against the lever. The bowl was empty in the morning, as was the trap.
Knowing this must be user error, Jim and I watched some videos on YouTube, but none of them gave precise food placement instructions. So, I split the difference and put the food right in the center of the section past the lever.
Floofenstein showed up sometime after 8:30 and just sat outside the trap, staring at it for a while. I can only assume he realized that to get the food, he’d spring the trap. In an effort to help him make up his mind, I spent a while talking to him through the closed front door. I asked him to let us help him. I let him know we’d take good care of him and make sure he healed up well. But, after 15-20 minutes, he walked away from the trap, down our porch steps to the “landing,” and started grooming himself. Looking back, I wonder if he’d already made his decision and was just making himself presentable.
Figuring his retreat meant he wouldn’t be entering the trap anytime soon, I said goodnight to him through our front room windows, and Jim and I got ready for bed.
While brushing my teeth, I took one last look at him through our doorbell camera. Imagine my surprise at seeing him calmly lying down in the trap with the door closed! I literally shouted in joy.
Jim and I re-dressed and I went downstairs to finish prepping the basement bathroom while he went outside to bring in the trap with Floofers. While Floofenstein didn’t appreciate being carried in the trap, he was quiet once Jim set it down. I closed the bathroom door and let Floofers out of the trap, then stepped out to get the water I’d brought down. Big mistake.
When I re-opened the door, Floofers bolted. He led me on a merry chase in the basement, leaping over the TV and climbing a curtain. Although I supported a decent amount of his weight (thank goodness I was wearing gloves), he still managed to bend a curtain rod bracket and nearly pull it from the wall.
He managed to struggle loose, partially because I was worried about causing problems with his wound. He zoomed across the basement and back down the short hallway into a corner. Thank goodness he didn’t try to go upstairs.
I pulled the nearest sofa across the entrance to the hallway and had Jim stand on the other side of it to discourage any attempt to go that way. With some shooing movements, I was able to encourage Floofenstein back into the bathroom and shut the door to let him calm down for the night.
I pushed the sofa back into place, and Jim and I said goodnight to Floofers through the bathroom door.
Step 1 complete. Step 2: vet visit.
This is part one of three?? about Floofenstein’s rescue and incorporation into our household. What do you think of him just walking into the trap? Let me know in the comments! I’d love to hear from you.
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