So, I go into the attached garage last night to check on our "outdoor" cat that I put in the garage since it was 0 degrees yesterday. When I open the door, I see a black and brown adult cat run under my Grand Prix, and by the time I look underneath, it has gone up into the engine bay.
Great.
I go in, put more clothes on, hat, gloves, etc, and get ready to extract a stray cat from my car. Pop the hood... nothing. No cat. I open the hood of my wife's Equinox, and FUCK ME BACKWARDS - 1 adult black and brown cat, 1 adult orange cat, and 1 orange kitten come at me. They hiss, I about piss. They run everywhere.
For the next 60 minutes, I can not believe the reality that I am unable to find a single cat in an enclosed garage. It's midnight, my ass and fat rolls are frozen. Fuck it.
So, this morning, I go into the garage to find piles of barely-solid, blood-laced cat shit. At least I manage to find one today, lodged between the Ram transmission and trans tunnel. Of course, there is an inch of road sludge on the garage floor that has fallen off of the truck.
I yell, I hiss, I bang a rakey-weed-puller-weasel-thingy handle at it. I poke it with a shovel. Thing won't move.
Plan D. Circa 1985 Daisy single shot BB gun. Let me stop here and say my friends and I used to shoot each other with this gun; I know ahead of time it's not leathal. Six direct shots, cat under flinches and buries itself higher up the trans. That was an hour ago, the cat is still under the truck. I tried starting the truck, honking the horn, pulled the truck outside to allow it to go on it's own.
This Garfield bastard is still there. So, my next step is either to take off down the road as-is, or take out the 1000 fps pellet gun. How much patience would you show a stray bloody shit leaving cat?
Oh, and almost forgot, there may or may not still be 2 other cats in the other cars somewhere. I am impressed with their stealth abilities.