There are actually two news items on this post. The first one is also the more obvious (if you've ever been here before). The news system has gone live! This is the first real posting on the system...but many more will surely come!
You know, I'd like to think I'm in more control over the cat than was proven to me tonight...
As background information, Beth was gone all day today (and won't be back for a few hours yet...after midnight central time)...
Anyway, I got home from work around 8pm tonight. After a short bit of TV, I started to go about relatively normal stuff. I loaded and started the dishwasher, etc., and gathered up the garbage. During this quest, I refilled the small bottle of laundry detergent from the large one (since the large one is cheaper...)...and left the hallway closet (linen/etc closet) door open. By the time I got garbage/recyclables together, the detergent fill was complete, so I placed the filled bottle in the closet (closing the door) and put the empty large bottle along with my recyclables.
I go outside, take care of that stuff...and come back in, going about other miscellaneous activity. All the time noticing that the cat is nowhere to be found...but 'he's probably hiding somewhere or looking out the window somewhere...' Several more minutes pass, and I walk downt the hallway past the closet...to hear a scratching-type noise coming from within. I open the door, and...voila...out comes the cat.
As further background information, we also keep his various toys (the ones we use as 'treats'...(e.g. they make noise or potentially leave a mess and are therefore are inappropriate for overnight bits of playfulness) So, the smart cat he is...decided to take advantage of the situation...and paid the price for it.
But, it doesn't stop there. About a half hour passes and I decide to work on the two aquariums. One needs some more water, and another needs to be pseudo-cleaned. Again the hall closet gets opened up...as the equipment is kept within. So, while I'm working on aquariums...I hear him off in the living room (above the dishwasher at times)...no big deal...normal George. I go about my business...and after 15 minutes or so finish. I close up the closet door to find he's dragged one of his toys out to play...on the living room floor. No big deal. On the other hand, I don't remember leaving the apartment door wide open, either...
Now, here again is some background information. It's pretty windy here tonight...and this apartment isn't exactly draft-proof (which is good as far as I'm concerned). What I figure happened is that when I got back from doing the garbage thing...the door didn't get latched correctly...and probably when someone came into the building, the pressure (draft) between outside and inside forced the door open just slightly. After all, the building isn't that large (12 units -- four on each of three floors).
Being the crafty and ever-curious (e.g. Curious George) cat he is...I'm sure he was playing when this happened...and decided to go investigate. At which point in time I'm sure he used his razor-sharp claws to open the door enough for him to get out. I go out into the hallway to look for him, but I don't see him. Not a good sign. I walk upstairs (we're on the middle floor) to see if he's in a spot Beth's found him before...but no luck. But, while I'm walking up the steps, I hear his little bell on the collar. Downstairs.
I go downstairs towards the laundry facilities...and hear him again, but still no sight. Until I get near the mailboxes. There he is, next to the door...absolutely terrified. I approach him, trying to coax him towards me...but his tail just got big...and he ran towards our apartment. Of course, by habit I closed the door behind me...and he couldn't get back in...so it became somewhat of a chase to get him, but shortly thereafter I succeeded.
As I'm carrying him back to the apartment, the phone rings. And it's Beth. We both have a good laugh at the situation, and I hang up, continuing to comfort George in the fact that he has absolutely no idea what it's like to be outside of our apartment (unless at the vet). He may be a big, mean orange cat inside...but he's really got no idea of what to think of the outside.
Both dad and George are okay, though. Almost immediately, he started playing again.
-- MattZaske - 06 Mar 2003
This post was upgraded to the MZ Online Blog on 8/20/07