This is Max, the oldest of my two cats. He's five. When I sat down with the mail this evening after work, I heard a far-away but urgent meowing. I immediately panicked because I knew it meant Max was locked in a closet somewhere in the house.
Understand that his passion, the thing that gives him the most joy in life, is slipping into open closets undetected. He's invisibly quick. Which has brought him some trouble in the past. Like the 36+ hours he spent in the hall closet one Christmas while I was at my parent's house. He'd have been there MUCH longer if I hadn't gotten that cold-finger-up-my-spine intuition that told me I needed to get home. NOW.
When I arrived home that night I could hear him wailing as I walked up the back steps. I felt horrible. I was heartbroken. That is, until his first order of business was not food, or water, or the box, but rather the catnip. The catnip that his Aunt Tammy had gotten him for Christmas. He's such a junkie. As a testament to his extreme obedience, though, he did not potty in that closet. At least he's a hygienic junkie.
So, this invisible quickness of his? Most recently landed him three days in a storage room in the basement, his most very favorite place to slip into. Without fail, he will sneak in there when I've got my head in a box of Easter baskets or some such. It's happened so many times that now I prop the door open when I leave and close it the next time I'm down there.
I'm not sure how long he spent in there this time because I just can't remember what day I closed the door. I know he was around the house on Saturday because I had company who commented on how pretty he is. So it had to be Sunday . . . ?
Whatever day it was, he was in there long enough this time that he couldn't hold it. Given his circumstances, I'm impressed he was considerate enough to go on an old outdoor cushion that should've been pitched last spring.
He's taking it pretty well - he and Skylar are chasing each other through the house and I've already had to yell at him three times for chewing on the plant.
3 comments:
Ye gods. It's clear that we share the same pets, and that we've just given them different names.
My aunt's cat slipped into my mom's suitcase once when we were visiting and we almost took it home. It was pretty pissed off when we finally let it out.
Sorry, cat.
We are cat people too. We have three cats. Our cats come and go from outside to in, so we are forever trying to find some cat or the other, especially when we leave the house. It's never good when they're trapped somewhere, is it? Good post. See ya.
Post a Comment