July 25, 2005
I had an adventure not long ago that, well, could have been planned a little better. Through a frightening twist of fate, there were three of the short two-leggeds here over the weekend in question. In some ways, it was good for me. They generally entertained themselves without my involvement, and I was able to escape being passed from one to the other. However (shudder) there were times where I became the center of attention. Apparently, I needed to be carried, needed to be removed from my place in the window, needed to be pulled out of my basket, needed to be tugged in all directions.
Well as the day progressed, I realized that now there were more people going in and out of the house. The tall two-legged left the front door open due to the heat. Off-topic: this seemed really stupid, since the open door allowed the outside heat inside - what a moron. Well, with the door open, only the screen door stood between me and the freedom to deliver messages to my massing army outside (I think I'm making progress with the deer). The door has a crude pneumatic door-closer that pauses before shutting to eliminate possible slams (I can't believe that the two-leggeds don't know about the precision of quantum-pressure closers). With so many two-leggeds going in and out, the screen door was staying open more often than usual. I stealthily stalked my way into the entryway, and found a place to hide behind the firewood left over from winter.
I watched the door for several openings. I had the timing down. It opened and someone came in the house. 1... 2... 3... 4... 5... I bolted. My tail just cleared the door before it made the final 'click'. I was free! I cruised the deck with no interference (for once). No one was picking me up and carrying me where they wanted me to go, and I could chew on grass to my heart's content. I dispatched messengers, and had conversations with members of the local fauna. I confess that I was a little drunk on power, and felt very smug at my ingenuity for escaping the confines of the house.
Then I noticed something. It had gotten dark. I heard the familiar noises in the house of the two-leggeds preparing for bed. I hadn't thought far enough ahead to determine how I would get back into the house. I had assumed I would enter as I left when someone came out, but they didn't appear to be coming out anymore. Probably the result of the pesky buzzing insects flying around everywhere. The dog walked by, and I swear he snickered and faked a cough while saying "LOSER". I tried to ask for assistance, but over the ceiling fans, the small two-leggeds talking and giggling, and the tall two-legged yelling "GO TO SLEEP", no one heard me.
I remembered a time last winter when I escaped through a hole in the bathroom that was being remodeled and spent some time under the house. I made my way back there, and spent the night. It was actually quite fun, but I missed being able to tease Sandy in the middle of the night. Morning came, and I yawned, stretched, and went to the opening to watch the sunrise. Yeah, it really is nicer to see in Annie's window. I thought I heard something: the familiar tapping of keys on the deck. The tall two-legged was out with his typing-thingy and drinking that vile coffee. I looked around at the terrible obstacles I had bravely traversed the night before. There were tall plants with stickers on them, and I didn't relish the thought of walking through them again. I decided to start telling "Daddy" what I had been through to get him to elicite enough sympathy for him to come get me.
It never ceases to amaze me that I can understand the two-leggeds, and they can't understand me. I confess that "Daddy" understands me better than most, but he seemed to think I was talking to him through Annie's window. He talked to me without looking for me. Finally, after about 15 minutes of trying to communicate, he walked to the edge of the deck for some reason. I was yelling "look down!", and he finally did. He tried to coaxe me into walking around the bad plants to him. Moron. I would have done that if I wanted to. He realized I wasn't going to move, and came down to get me. It was then that I got nervous. In order to get around the plants, he had to walk on a slippery and steep slope. Of course, if he had a tail, and walked on four legs, it would have been no big deal. He almost fell a couple of times, and I started to wonder if he would be able to carry me back. I decided to venture into the bad plants. I was only a couple of feet in, though, when he made it to me. He picked me up, and fortunately was able to carry me back into the house without falling.
I cleaned myself up a bit (Sandy's always complaining about my being dirty - wish I could get her to clean my butt), and promptly went to sleep. It was a real adventure.
Lilo the Cat Brave
Well as the day progressed, I realized that now there were more people going in and out of the house. The tall two-legged left the front door open due to the heat. Off-topic: this seemed really stupid, since the open door allowed the outside heat inside - what a moron. Well, with the door open, only the screen door stood between me and the freedom to deliver messages to my massing army outside (I think I'm making progress with the deer). The door has a crude pneumatic door-closer that pauses before shutting to eliminate possible slams (I can't believe that the two-leggeds don't know about the precision of quantum-pressure closers). With so many two-leggeds going in and out, the screen door was staying open more often than usual. I stealthily stalked my way into the entryway, and found a place to hide behind the firewood left over from winter.
I watched the door for several openings. I had the timing down. It opened and someone came in the house. 1... 2... 3... 4... 5... I bolted. My tail just cleared the door before it made the final 'click'. I was free! I cruised the deck with no interference (for once). No one was picking me up and carrying me where they wanted me to go, and I could chew on grass to my heart's content. I dispatched messengers, and had conversations with members of the local fauna. I confess that I was a little drunk on power, and felt very smug at my ingenuity for escaping the confines of the house.
Then I noticed something. It had gotten dark. I heard the familiar noises in the house of the two-leggeds preparing for bed. I hadn't thought far enough ahead to determine how I would get back into the house. I had assumed I would enter as I left when someone came out, but they didn't appear to be coming out anymore. Probably the result of the pesky buzzing insects flying around everywhere. The dog walked by, and I swear he snickered and faked a cough while saying "LOSER". I tried to ask for assistance, but over the ceiling fans, the small two-leggeds talking and giggling, and the tall two-legged yelling "GO TO SLEEP", no one heard me.
I remembered a time last winter when I escaped through a hole in the bathroom that was being remodeled and spent some time under the house. I made my way back there, and spent the night. It was actually quite fun, but I missed being able to tease Sandy in the middle of the night. Morning came, and I yawned, stretched, and went to the opening to watch the sunrise. Yeah, it really is nicer to see in Annie's window. I thought I heard something: the familiar tapping of keys on the deck. The tall two-legged was out with his typing-thingy and drinking that vile coffee. I looked around at the terrible obstacles I had bravely traversed the night before. There were tall plants with stickers on them, and I didn't relish the thought of walking through them again. I decided to start telling "Daddy" what I had been through to get him to elicite enough sympathy for him to come get me.
It never ceases to amaze me that I can understand the two-leggeds, and they can't understand me. I confess that "Daddy" understands me better than most, but he seemed to think I was talking to him through Annie's window. He talked to me without looking for me. Finally, after about 15 minutes of trying to communicate, he walked to the edge of the deck for some reason. I was yelling "look down!", and he finally did. He tried to coaxe me into walking around the bad plants to him. Moron. I would have done that if I wanted to. He realized I wasn't going to move, and came down to get me. It was then that I got nervous. In order to get around the plants, he had to walk on a slippery and steep slope. Of course, if he had a tail, and walked on four legs, it would have been no big deal. He almost fell a couple of times, and I started to wonder if he would be able to carry me back. I decided to venture into the bad plants. I was only a couple of feet in, though, when he made it to me. He picked me up, and fortunately was able to carry me back into the house without falling.
I cleaned myself up a bit (Sandy's always complaining about my being dirty - wish I could get her to clean my butt), and promptly went to sleep. It was a real adventure.
Lilo the