As the fresh fish and humita vendors walked by my house with their familiar sales pitches, another sound caught my ear.
It was soft, high-pitched, feline, and coming from my roof. Unlike the vendors, who continued along their daily routes, the sound on the roof persisted.
Somehow, a cat had found its way on top of my house. I didn't really worry about it at the time. I figured that as long as the cat could find its way onto my roof, it could just as easily find its way down from my roof.
This wasn't the first time a cat has found its way into my house. One time, a kitten climbed through my kitchen window and sought refuge behind my fridge for the better part of a Saturday before I took care of the situation. Another time, while I was making macaroni and cheese, I spilled some of the hot milk-cheese mixture onto the floor. When I looked down to see the mess I was making, a cat was there, licking the sauce off the floor. (He was probably the happiest street cat in the world at the time.)
But I wasn't quite certain whether or not this was someone's pet cat who had found its way onto my roof because some new neighbors moved in next door. Throwing their pet cat out to the street would be a horrible first impression. So I figured I would just let the cat be and hope the problem would resolve itself.
I came back to my apartment for lunch, and, unfortunately, the problem had not solved itself. I asked the people who were moving in whether it was their cat, and they told it wasn´t. But I wanted to get the all-clear from my landlord before asserting myself.
The all-clear didn't come until 5:30.
By that time, the cat found the crawlspace between my ceiling and the roof and managed to forget how he got into said crawlspace.
Realizing that this situation probably wasn't going to change all night unless I did something about, I decided that it was time to get the cat down.
At this time, one of my new neighbors walked by. I asked him to help me out because if the cat didn't come down, I wouldn't be getting any sleep tonight. He told me "Don't trouble yourself. The cat will come down by itself." If he could have come down by himself, he probably would have done so at some point in the last 11 hours.
This part of the night turns into the part from The Sandlot where they try a variety of strategies for getting the baseball out of The Beast's domain.
The space between my ceiling and the roof is big enough for a cat to move around in and for a person to jam a pole into, but not much else.
I don't think that cat had eaten all day. I figured the best way to get him out of their would be to lure him out with the possibility of food. I put some tuna-smelling juice on the end of my broomstick. Then, as the cat was sniffing and licking the broomstick, I would just knock the cat onto the floor.
Except that I don't have cat-like speed and reflexes. When the cat realized what I was doing, it scurried back into the roof. I did hit him on the head a few times, if that counts for anything.
Instead of just offering the cat the scent of food, I decided to give it a little food and then knock it to the floor when it was distracted and eating. I tried this once, but couldn't get a good enough push on the cat. So I just ended up giving it dinner. Then a second time, I was on the phone with a friend about the situation, when the cat took some more tuna out of the can. My lack of Denard-esque speed and reflexes showed as the cat eluded me once more.
Now, it was time to pull out all the stops. I pulled out every large piece of wood in my house and set out and elaborate ramp system, with food incentives along the way, the get the cat down.
After waiting for half an hour without any movement in one part of the courtyard, I decided to move the ramp to another section of the courtyard to see what happens.
Well, so far, the kitten has the upper hand. The ramp has been up for two hours, with little pieces of tuna along the way, but all I can hear is meowing.
I'll update you tomorrow with any developments.
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