So just recently, we learned that our cats are no longer getting along. Apparently, Pablo accidentally got out of the house and wandered in the backyard a little. He was chicken; he didn’t go anywhere else, and he was waiting by the back door when it was discovered he was missing, but when he got back in, Winnie hissed at him, and has been hissing at him ever since. Apparently he smells bad.
We looked the problem up on the “internet” and found that it’s probably a case of “redirected aggression.” Typically, “redirected aggression” happens when one cat is, say, lying by the window and sees a stranger cat outside. The window-reclining cat gets up and goes and attacks his sleeping housemate, who is very surprised by an attack by a practical family member. I find this example, which was actually written on one of the sites we found, highly amusing.
In Pablo’s case, he most likely smelled a little different, which made Winnie doubt whether or not she knew him. As my mom’s dogs say, “Cats is stupid.”
So now the cats’ gaurdian for the year is busy trying to make peace between the two. We feel horrible that she has to deal with this.
In other news, I just got an email stating that the two guys who were going to re-roof the house next week are working at ItalianFest and so they can’t make it. This is a real kick in the ass. I’m coming home 10 days before Eileen to 1) move into the house, and 2) re-roof it. Since booking a roofer in July on a week’s notice will be nearly impossible, we’re pretty much gauranteed that the re-roofing will not happen before Eileen gets home. So much for planning.
Speaking of planning, my students this morning were attempting once again to plan what we will be doing tomorrow for the “despedida.” After 20 minutes of discussion, we left the class with the whole thing resolved: we would go to the chair lift (teleferico) and then have a cookout at my apartment. As we were walking out the door, someone said they thought we should maybe do something else. I heard one girl respond, “no. If we don’t go to the teleferico, I’ll die.”
Not quite. When I got down the stairs, the students were all huddled in a circle discussing other options. The men said that women can’t decide. The women responded with a defensive, “como!” claiming that the men were the ones who didn’t want to do the teleferico. I said, “the problem isn’t men or women. It’s ECUADORIANS. You people can’t make a decision in a group.”