This is Frankie.
Frankie is a PITA (pain in the ass). I love Frankie, but he is causing me much, much grief. My partner, M, and I bought a new house in May. I knew that it would be a hard move for Frankie and his PITA brother Jelly, but I had no idea. The second day we were in the house, M and I were getting ready for a nice lunch to celebrate. I couldn’t find Frankie, but could hear tiny cries.
This is where I found him:
A corner in the kitchen, where the two cabinets meet. It wasn’t covered at the top, and he fell down, so was stuck at the bottom. Unable to get out. Fortunately the animal loving sales person for our community was at work. He, using a very nice steak knife, cut out the bottom of the cabinet and Frankie leapt out.
In June, the week before we were to go on our three week vacation, Frankie got sick. Thank goodness I found a vet who makes house calls. Frankie ripped her shirt, and scratched her up. He jumped from the opening on the 2nd floor, to the 1st floor, to escape her.
She still took him to her own home while we were gone.
Now, Frankie is spraying. I can cut him out of a cabinet, pay thousands of dollars in vet bills, buy him extra special high quality food, love him, pet him, buy lots of toys for him. But I don’t know what to do about the spraying.
Feeling worried, exasperated, sad, and damn near desperate.