It ain't over

The cat is still in my house. He is a demon. I understand that in reality, he is just scared, and yesterday's events as we tried to wrangle him into the cat carrier just served to make things worse. But knowing that he is psychotic because he is scared does not change the fact that he is possessed.

When I got home yesterday, we put a plan into action. We put on protective gear (gloves and jackets), armed ourselves with brooms, and put the cat carrier at the ready. First we tried it J's way. We blocked him off (we thought) with the goal of shoving him out from under the bed with brooms so that he would run into the carrier. I was on the far side of the bed and was to push him toward the side with the cat carrier, and J was on the "action" side of the bed, ready to push him into the carrier and slam the door shut when he was inside.

I pushed at him with the broom, which served only to enrage him, and rather than running away from the broom, out from under the bed on J's side, where the carrier was waiting, he turned and ran toward MY side of the bed. I screamed and jumped backward as the screeching, fang-bearing angry bundle of terror ran at me. He veered, though, right at the end and scooted out from under the bed to the right of me and beelined under the clothes in our open closet.

Okay, we thought. Okay. We can actually get at him easier from there. Now, we do it my way. I have J upend the carrier so that the mouth is at the top. I will grab him by the scruff and drop him, butt-first, into the carrier. I approached. He warned. I grabbed. But my gloves made it difficult to get a good grip, and his warning became far more alarming, and I got scared (as did J) in short order that he still had the ability to turn around was about to rip my hand apart...through my gloves.

We tried a little longer to box him in, and we pushed at him with the brooms, hoping he'd run into the carrier to get away from us, but it was to no avail. He just got angrier and scarier, and we got more and more aware of our own vulnerability. J: "I think I should've worn jeans instead of shorts."

Right at the moment we gave up, my mom called. I said that was it - I was going to tell her what was going on and ask if she had any tricks. She didn't really, except she said that if he couldn't see, he'd calm down, so we should try putting a towel or bedspread over him if we could get him out in the open.

We elected not to try anything else last night since he was now on high alert and ready to kill us. So, we went for Plan B. We gave him the bedroom and slept on an air mattress in the living room. I WISH I were joking. But we couldn't spend another night with him in the bedroom, especially now that we were at war. I honestly think he would've slit our throats in the night.

We both slept okay, all things considered, and this morning, after J got back from his morning bike ride and swim, he spotted Demon Cat sleeping under the bedspread on top of the bed. He thought of my mom's advice and tried to grab him. Demon Cat not only did not calm down, he tried to bite J through the sheet and bedspread and succeeded in tearing the sheet - my 400-count, expensive sheet. And pissed himself.

Fan-friggin-tastic.

As a last ditch, I looked online today to see if there were over-the-counter sedatives available for cats, but apparently you have to get them from a vet and they actually have to see the cat, so unless a vet is willing to make a house call, I guess that's out.

So, for now, we are defeated. We will give up the fight and let him have the bedroom - either until he finally lets his guard down and we can get to him or my mom gets home. Someone is seriously going to get hurt - him or us - if this continues. And I don't want anything else damaged.

If only there were a Cat Whisperer out there.