![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
So, we got a Roomba. (We had one years ago, but it could not cope. This one seems to be hardier, although it has needed a couple brush cleanings already just on these two rooms.)
Tonight we are running it. Ray and Apple are...not impressed. Ray has been stalking it jumpily. Apple has been staring at it and jumping, with an occasional paw-swat. (Ray hasn't actually gotten close enough to hit it; Apple seems to be fear-striking, not hunting.) We have tried to reassure as best we can, but mostly they just have to get used to it.
Ray was calmer, so I got him up onto the chair beside me and was petting him, letting him get used to it and realize it CAN'T GET HIM UP THERE. He began the Snoopy vulture posture. I began trying to figure out how to prevent him - all "I must be at least partially Maine Coon" umpty pounds of him - from coming down on the Roomba like the Wrath of Cat.
The Roomba went under the chair he was vulturing from. Feline doom waited for it to emerge.
The chair in question is right next to the five-foot-high writing desk I inherited from my parents, helping to block access to it so that Drew doesn't open it repeatedly (only about twice a week). The doors on the desk no longer latch well, so a small heavy box sits in front of them, keeping the right-hand one closed (it is otherwise inclined to swing open).
Roomba, under the chair, bumped this box and shoved it aside. The door swung open. The box from my new web cam, tossed up there to keep it out of Drew-reach, fell onto Ray.
Ray abruptly appeared about halfway across the room, trailing a nearly-visible thought balloon: "I was above IT. How did IT get above ME???"
Roomba, meanwhile, jostled the chair a little and ended up stuck in a no-longer-exitable space between the chair, the box holding the desk closed, the web cam box, and an adjacent side table. Scott had to rescue it, because I was laughing too hard to save the robot. I was almost laughing too hard to BREATHE.
Tonight we are running it. Ray and Apple are...not impressed. Ray has been stalking it jumpily. Apple has been staring at it and jumping, with an occasional paw-swat. (Ray hasn't actually gotten close enough to hit it; Apple seems to be fear-striking, not hunting.) We have tried to reassure as best we can, but mostly they just have to get used to it.
Ray was calmer, so I got him up onto the chair beside me and was petting him, letting him get used to it and realize it CAN'T GET HIM UP THERE. He began the Snoopy vulture posture. I began trying to figure out how to prevent him - all "I must be at least partially Maine Coon" umpty pounds of him - from coming down on the Roomba like the Wrath of Cat.
The Roomba went under the chair he was vulturing from. Feline doom waited for it to emerge.
The chair in question is right next to the five-foot-high writing desk I inherited from my parents, helping to block access to it so that Drew doesn't open it repeatedly (only about twice a week). The doors on the desk no longer latch well, so a small heavy box sits in front of them, keeping the right-hand one closed (it is otherwise inclined to swing open).
Roomba, under the chair, bumped this box and shoved it aside. The door swung open. The box from my new web cam, tossed up there to keep it out of Drew-reach, fell onto Ray.
Ray abruptly appeared about halfway across the room, trailing a nearly-visible thought balloon: "I was above IT. How did IT get above ME???"
Roomba, meanwhile, jostled the chair a little and ended up stuck in a no-longer-exitable space between the chair, the box holding the desk closed, the web cam box, and an adjacent side table. Scott had to rescue it, because I was laughing too hard to save the robot. I was almost laughing too hard to BREATHE.
Tags: