Long story... sorry.
Okay, here's the deal.
Loki is a "momma's boy".
He sucks up to momma any chance he gets. If he doesn't get his momma time, he turns into a little butthead.
Okay, sometimes he's a butthead first, then he sucks up to momma.
Hubby knows this. The other cats know this. And I know this.
It becomes a bit of a problem at bedtime. Loki wanders around the room, hassling the other cats who are settling down.
Usually, I can get him to settle within about 5 minutes, and all is fine.
HOWEVER, if want to say, stay up late and read a book downstairs, Loki will not settle down.
Hubby tries and tries, but Loki keeps looking for momma: hassling the other cats, banging on the doors, knocking stuff off the bathroom counter, you name it. He is not a happy cat.
This, of course, annoys my dear hubby to no end, especially if he has an early morning.
Okay.
So, we've just been leaving Loki out with me, and I bring him in the room when I am done reading.
Problem solved, right?
So, last night, Hubby goes to bed early, because he has an early morning. He gets everyone in the bedroom... including Loki.
I ask him, "You have Loki up there, too?"
He says, "Yes. It's fine."
I give him a weird look and say, "Ooooookaaaayyy. Love you. G'night." *kiss/hug*
Sure enough, Loki starts in with the other cats. I can hear the hissing from downstairs.
Hubby tells him to leave them alone.
Loki bangs the door. He rattles the closet door.
Hubby tells him to stop.
Loki knocks stuff off the counter. He plays with the toilet brush.
Hubby tells him to come to bed.
Then it's quiet.... for a while.
Suddenly, I hear hissing, yowling, stomping, "AUGGGGHH!".
The bedroom door opens, and Hubby comes stomping downstairs with the dog in tow.
wait... the dog?
Me: "What happened?"
Him: "YOUR CAT was being a butthead!"
Me: "Why did you bring the dog down?"
Him: "She needs to go outside"
Me: "Okay, why didn't you just let Loki out as well?"
Him: (still very angry) "I tried to grab him, and I just bent my fingernail all the way back!" He holds up a finger wrapped in tissues, bleeding profusely.
Me: "You tried to grab him?! .... I'm sorry about your nail. It looks really painful."
Him: "IT IS."
He starts rummaging around the kitchen, getting a bowl for water and an ice pack. I let him do his thing.
After a few minutes I ask, "Why did you try to grab him?"
Him: "Because he was hassling the other cats"
Me: "But... why didn't you just open the door and let him come out to me?"
Him: "Because I just woke up! Because I'm tired! Because I'm pissed!"
Me: "I'm really sorry about all that.... but all you had to do was open the door..."
Him: "Look! I don't need your lecture right now!"
He glares at me. I just look back steadily, shake my head, and retreat back to my book. He goes up to the office to sulk and nurse his wound.
After a few minutes, I let the dog back in, and take her upstairs to the bedroom.
Loki is at the door, very anxious. I stay for a few minutes, talking to him, petting him, trying to settle him down.
In walks Hubby.
He sees Loki, and makes a grab at him.
Loki is too quick, and flees under the bed.
I look at my Hubby incredulously, "What the hell?! You grabbed at him again? Why? He wasn't doing anything."
Hubby brushes past me into the bathroom, "I'm pissed at him."
That's the last straw for me. I brace my arms on the door frame, blocking him in. "Stop. Just. Stop. You are letting your temper get the best of you. You just tried to grab him for no other reason than you are pissed." I look pointedly at his finger, "That didn't work out so well the first time, why would you try it again?"
Hubby glares, "I'm going to the office. Let me leave."
I let him by.
I go downstairs and read for a few more minutes. Letting everyone cool down.
I go back to the bedroom. All the kitties are settled on the bed. I rummage around the bathroom, collecting bandages and neosporin. I go back to the office, and toss them on the desk.
I say, "You are so busy being pissed at a 'dumb animal', and you are stubbornly refusing to look at your own actions."
I leave.
He comes back down after 20 minutes, holds up a very large chunk of wood (our floors are stripped down to the plywood at the moment), and says "This was under my nail."
I raise my eyebrows. It's actually a very impressive piece, and his nail will probably lift from it if he doesn't keep it taped tightly the next few days. Yet, I find my sympathy is somewhat minimized by his behavior.
Seriously. He wouldn't have had a chunk of wood under his nail if he had simply opened the door to let Loki out.
But I don't say that.
I tell him to wrap it tightly. He says he is.
I tell him the cats are settled down. He says fine.
After 15 more minutes, I hear him go to bed.
An hour or so later, I follow suit.
Loki is sleeping in my spot.
I move him a bit, and he re-settles next to me.
Like I said... momma's boy.
Okay, here's the deal.
Loki is a "momma's boy".
He sucks up to momma any chance he gets. If he doesn't get his momma time, he turns into a little butthead.
Okay, sometimes he's a butthead first, then he sucks up to momma.
Hubby knows this. The other cats know this. And I know this.
It becomes a bit of a problem at bedtime. Loki wanders around the room, hassling the other cats who are settling down.
Usually, I can get him to settle within about 5 minutes, and all is fine.
HOWEVER, if want to say, stay up late and read a book downstairs, Loki will not settle down.
Hubby tries and tries, but Loki keeps looking for momma: hassling the other cats, banging on the doors, knocking stuff off the bathroom counter, you name it. He is not a happy cat.
This, of course, annoys my dear hubby to no end, especially if he has an early morning.
Okay.
So, we've just been leaving Loki out with me, and I bring him in the room when I am done reading.
Problem solved, right?
So, last night, Hubby goes to bed early, because he has an early morning. He gets everyone in the bedroom... including Loki.
I ask him, "You have Loki up there, too?"
He says, "Yes. It's fine."
I give him a weird look and say, "Ooooookaaaayyy. Love you. G'night." *kiss/hug*
Sure enough, Loki starts in with the other cats. I can hear the hissing from downstairs.
Hubby tells him to leave them alone.
Loki bangs the door. He rattles the closet door.
Hubby tells him to stop.
Loki knocks stuff off the counter. He plays with the toilet brush.
Hubby tells him to come to bed.
Then it's quiet.... for a while.
Suddenly, I hear hissing, yowling, stomping, "AUGGGGHH!".
The bedroom door opens, and Hubby comes stomping downstairs with the dog in tow.
wait... the dog?
Me: "What happened?"
Him: "YOUR CAT was being a butthead!"
Me: "Why did you bring the dog down?"
Him: "She needs to go outside"
Me: "Okay, why didn't you just let Loki out as well?"
Him: (still very angry) "I tried to grab him, and I just bent my fingernail all the way back!" He holds up a finger wrapped in tissues, bleeding profusely.
Me: "You tried to grab him?! .... I'm sorry about your nail. It looks really painful."
Him: "IT IS."
He starts rummaging around the kitchen, getting a bowl for water and an ice pack. I let him do his thing.
After a few minutes I ask, "Why did you try to grab him?"
Him: "Because he was hassling the other cats"
Me: "But... why didn't you just open the door and let him come out to me?"
Him: "Because I just woke up! Because I'm tired! Because I'm pissed!"
Me: "I'm really sorry about all that.... but all you had to do was open the door..."
Him: "Look! I don't need your lecture right now!"
He glares at me. I just look back steadily, shake my head, and retreat back to my book. He goes up to the office to sulk and nurse his wound.
After a few minutes, I let the dog back in, and take her upstairs to the bedroom.
Loki is at the door, very anxious. I stay for a few minutes, talking to him, petting him, trying to settle him down.
In walks Hubby.
He sees Loki, and makes a grab at him.
Loki is too quick, and flees under the bed.
I look at my Hubby incredulously, "What the hell?! You grabbed at him again? Why? He wasn't doing anything."
Hubby brushes past me into the bathroom, "I'm pissed at him."
That's the last straw for me. I brace my arms on the door frame, blocking him in. "Stop. Just. Stop. You are letting your temper get the best of you. You just tried to grab him for no other reason than you are pissed." I look pointedly at his finger, "That didn't work out so well the first time, why would you try it again?"
Hubby glares, "I'm going to the office. Let me leave."
I let him by.
I go downstairs and read for a few more minutes. Letting everyone cool down.
I go back to the bedroom. All the kitties are settled on the bed. I rummage around the bathroom, collecting bandages and neosporin. I go back to the office, and toss them on the desk.
I say, "You are so busy being pissed at a 'dumb animal', and you are stubbornly refusing to look at your own actions."
I leave.
He comes back down after 20 minutes, holds up a very large chunk of wood (our floors are stripped down to the plywood at the moment), and says "This was under my nail."
I raise my eyebrows. It's actually a very impressive piece, and his nail will probably lift from it if he doesn't keep it taped tightly the next few days. Yet, I find my sympathy is somewhat minimized by his behavior.
Seriously. He wouldn't have had a chunk of wood under his nail if he had simply opened the door to let Loki out.
But I don't say that.
I tell him to wrap it tightly. He says he is.
I tell him the cats are settled down. He says fine.
After 15 more minutes, I hear him go to bed.
An hour or so later, I follow suit.
Loki is sleeping in my spot.
I move him a bit, and he re-settles next to me.
Like I said... momma's boy.