So, it’s been a standing joke that my kitten, Gretchen, can open ANY door. She’s known as an escape artist. Well, the thing is, now that we live on an acreage, she’s an outdoor kitten… which she quite loves on most days. So it seems she shouldn’t have any need to escape, because she’s already outdoors… right?
Well this afternoon when I got home from training in Ames, I was pulling up to the garage when I noticed that the door to our kitchen (the main entrance) had been compromised. Meaning, it was about 6 inches open. Now, I need to give a little shout out to Reuben here, because his hyper, crazy little ass was just sittin on the porch, flouncing around like an idiot in the subzero temps. This could either be: a) because he is learning to be a good little boy, and knows better than to come in the house, or b) he just isn’t that smart to realize that there is warm air flowing from an open door a foot away, and based on the fact that it’s -12 degrees, it would be purely common sense to enter. I should add that it remains a mystery why the door was open but I have my theories.
I give Reuben a little pat, and entered the house. I call out to the kittens, knowing that they MUST be in here somewhere. I wander myself into the living room, where I find Gretchen casually lounging on one of our retro blue wing-backed chairs. She looks at me briefly, as if nothing was out of the ordinary, and then turns her head to look at absolutely nothing to show me that she’s ignoring me, hoping I would do the same for her. She was not so lucky.
Now you may think it harsh that we leave our pets outside in these dangerous temps, but don’t. We’ve provided them with very luxurious accommodations in a partially insulated, partially dry garage.
So I pick up my girl Gretch, and carry her to the door, where I proceed to excommunicate her out into the elements. Then, first things first… I crank the heat (because I’m selfish) put on my slippers, and check my Facebook to see how many new people are pregnant today. When from in the distance, I hear Gretchen’s pitiful *meow*. I decided to open up our external basement for her, because it’s substantially warmer down there… AND the crawlspace serves as a massive litterbox. 🙂 But as I open the kitchen door to do this kindness, Gretchen BOLTS into the house, and runs from me like her life depends on it. She has never done this before. Until today, neither of our kittens had ever even entered our house here in the country.
I chased her for awhile, and eventually got her cornered in the studio. She fled under the loveseat, which has a very low clearance. She’s still there friends, at this very moment. I’m planning a scheme to wait until she comes out and makes herself comfortable on the loveseat, and then I’ll barge in and grab her sorry soul when she least expects it.
Not to mention… Otis could be… anywhere. I’m not going to even attempt searching all 3 stories of this house. He’ll turn up if he’s in here.
What a day. What a day.