Today’s post comes from Anna.
We recently adopted a cat. Or at least we took her into our house and are feeding her and attempting to keep her entertained. She has adopted our daughter, but is not at all sure about the dog and thinks the guinea pig should either be food or a toy (but she can’t get to him, so is frustrated). She will demand affection from the other two humans as well, but Daughter is the clear favorite. Like many kitties, our little tuxedo cat is full of sass. She is as likely to chew on your feet as curl up next to you purring and will chase a laser pointer in circles and up the wall until your finger cramps from holding the pointer.
She is also an escape artist. Young, not-yet-spayed cat + spring time = cat who really wants to be outside. The first time she got out we didn’t even see it happen – we thought we had heard her indoors, but she showed up a couple days later, strolling in from the back yard with the dog as if it were expected that the cat would be outside at 5:30 am. She recently got out again, but this time I saw her mad dash – in fact, I was anticipating the mad dash and still couldn’t prevent it.
Our dog, bless him, is old and blind, so it can take a bit for him to navigate up the back steps and into the house. I knew not to open the door until the last possible moment to let him back in (this sometimes means he runs into the partially open door before figuring out where the opening is) to minimize the cat escape opportunities. Cat had been lying in wait, occasionally going to the door and meowing plaintively, clearly feeling it was unfair that the abhorred canine got to go outside but she did not. As soon as the door opened, even with me attempting to block her route, out she zoomed to freedom. She led me on a fine game of tag around the perimeter of the house and then made off for parts west (across the street) where I lost sight of her. After an overnight in the wilds of South Minneapolis, she is back in the house acting as though it is our fault she is hungry and a bit dirty.
Prior to her walkabouts outside, she had mastered the fine art of hiding in the most out-of-the-way spots in the basement. She also thought that hiding between the dining room curtains and the windows was a fine bit of camouflage, but it was much easier to spot her silhouette there and she always seemed indignant that I had uncovered her coveted lair-on-the-window-ledge.
In fairness, she was a stray before we took her in; a friend-of-a-friend found her hanging around their hobby farm and brought her in from the cold. A move to the big city is not going to immediately tame that touch of wildness, nor dampen her desire to return to the great outdoors (if only temporarily). I can only hope that once we have her spayed that this instinct is at least reduced. (See above comment regarding hawks. And possibly a fox.)
It’s a pity that a Go Pro camera would weigh as much or more than she does – it would be an interesting exercise to strap one on her and see where she goes.
Where do you go when you want to escape daily life?