Squeaky's Great Adventure

Oh my.

I knew letting the kittens have run of the bathroom before they fully mastered their litterbox skills was a bad idea. I just knew it. I didn't know how bad an idea or why, though. Yes, they did make a big mess of the floor, but that was the least of the problem. While I was cleaning up said mess, I suddenly noticed that Squeaky had vanished into thin air. He was nowhere to be found. At first I thought he'd managed to get into the garbage bag, despite me having it faced away from where they were playing and on the other end of the room. But after going through the garbage piece by piece, and no Squeaky, I was stumped. The door was closed. No way he squeezed under it. Fluffy was acting really weird too, crying and walking around in circles. Something was very wrong.

I noticed Fluffy was hanging out next to the right end of the cabinet, kind of cowering in the corner, maybe from the shock of being without her brother in sight for the first time ever, or maybe because she sensed there was a serious problem. Then I realized that the cries I was hearing weren't just hers. So I got down on the floor and looked to see if maybe there was a hole under the cabinet or something. Sure enough, there was an opening just the size for a small kitten to fit through, and for extra fun, with a drop-off too far down on the other side for him to get back out again. And that's where he was. Ugh.

Mind you, this wasn't a hole that you would notice if you, say, looked around the room from a standing position to verify it was safe before letting two young kittens have run of it like I did yesterday. That would be too simple. Nope, this hole was straight up and completely obscured from view to anyone taller than three inches. The only way you'd notice it is if you got down on your hands and knees and reached way up under the cabinet, which of course, I didn't do. Apparently, Squeaky had somehow (maybe with a boost from Fluffy's back?) gotten up through that hole and ended up wedged into a small space on the other side between the cabinet and the wall. Problem was, he couldn't get back out again, and the area was far too small for human hands to reach in and get him.

I waited for a bit to see if maybe he would come out on his own after all, but once feeding time came and he was clearly hungry and struggling to get out, it became obvious he wasn't going to be able to do it by himself. He was stuck. Plain and simple. And so, it was time to take more drastic measures. I tried calling the handyman that had done work on my house recently to see if he could make an emergency visit to get Squeaky out, but wasn't able to reach him. Since I'm new in town, I wasn't sure who else to call, and Squeaky was really starting to worry me with his behavior. At one point, he seemed to go completely limp and wasn't moving--at least the tiny part of him I could actually touch wasn't moving. I had no visibility into that hole, so I wasn't sure what was back there. Sharp nails? Another hole in the wall that he could follow and get himself thoroughly lost? With the view I had, I couldn't even check to see if he was injured, let alone feed him. So, I decided to take matters into my own hands.

With the help from my neighbor's niece and nephew, we were able to open up a gap big enough to get my hand in to pull him out. He was OK physically, but really shook up by the experience. He clung tightly to my shirt with all four paws for a full ten minutes until I finally pried him loose so I could feed him. His ordeal didn't hurt his appetite, though--he downed almost an entire bottle!

Needless to say, the kittens have temporarily lost their floor privileges, and are back in the tub until I am satisfied I have that hole (and the one just like it on the other end of the cabinet--ugh) completely inaccessible. This fine mess was brought to you by a new homeowner's unfamiliarity with her new surroundings, and a young kitten's insatiable curiosity. Wow. Just wow.