Sherlock is a plump, affectionate tabby, the constant companion of a busy home-based professional. They share a big 3-story house with feline amenities that include lots of tall windows, bookshelves to climb, a litter box on every floor, two daily servings of wet food, and access to a walled garden his owner transformed into an elaborate catio. Life is fabulous.
Except when his owner travels to the West coast to visit her aging parents. That’s where I come in. Every few months I show up twice a day for 10–14 days and Sherlock is unhappy with my presence from beginning to end. Not once have I caught sight of him.
The visit begins on the first floor with cleanup and meal prep before heading upstairs to scoop boxes. And every time, Sherlock will be in retreat somewhere ahead, hissing loudly at my approaching footsteps.
Feline fluster
By the time I reach the second floor, he is waiting quietly on the next stairway. But I don’t look for him in the hope that someday he will brave an encounter. After sprucing up his box, I move toward the stairs to the third floor litter box, prompting another loud hiss. In the early days he would hiss me all the way back to the first floor until he realized my unwelcome intrusion was almost over.
At the meet & greet, which Sherlock chose to avoid, his owner asked if I would let him out to enjoy the garden once a day. Pretty funny now though at the time neither one of us could predict how Sherlock would respond to me. Anyway, I couldn’t because the only barrier topping the garden walls was a thin lattice of vines.
During a recent engagement, I was required to enter through the back door at the far end of the garden while contractors refurbished the home’s front entrance. Sherlock was unsettled by the noisy activity as well as the work boots stomping through his catnaps on their way to the bathroom. I knew because his twice daily hissings had swelled into hissy fits. Poor Sherlock.
Breaking point
After a few days of contractor racket, I arrived through the garden, unlocked the back door into the kitchen, and was stunned to see Sherlock on the countertop streaking toward me. An instant later, he bounced off my chest into the garden beyond.
Unfortunately, the garden is not Sherlock’s happy place with me in it. I left the back door open and followed my usual routine. On the way out, I let the contractors know I would be using the front entrance and moved on to other pets, returning twice before our usual evening visit. His breakfast bowl was licked clean but climbing the stairs did not trigger hissing, either because he was in the garden, or because I showed up unexpectedly.
By dinnertime I felt wretched. After prepping his meal, I headed for the stairs and from somewhere up above, Sherlock warned me off with a splendid hiss. I immediately turned back to close and lock the back door, never to pass through it again.
Photo provided by the owner. Sherlock is happiest when they’re together.
