For almost a year we’d been puzzling over a mystery. How did the little black and white cat who thought she was ours keep getting into our house? Obviously there were times when CJ, Commando, or even I in a moment of weakness, let her in through the gym door. At other times she’d sneak in when the door was open. Quite often though, she’d be inexplicably inside when we knew we hadn’t opened the door at all. Finally, in the middle of the night, the mystery was solved although the answer was quite hard to believe.
19 May 2013
In the early hours of the morning Commando got out of bed to answer a call of nature and solved a mystery. As he stood there, a scratching sound caught his attention. It was coming from the bathroom window. When he turned to look there was Fluffy the cat perched on the window ledge outside. She was stretched up and scratching at the tiny top window which was open a crack for ventilation, trying to work it open enough to slip inside like a cat burglar. Top marks for effort Fluffy. That explains How she was getting inside last summer then, when the window was further open. I suppose the lure of cat treats is to blame. Even so it’s a long and difficult journey to the ledge outside our bathroom window, a very narrow ledge and a long stretch for a little cat. Good job they have nine lives.
In all honesty we had an idea that was how she was getting in although it seemed fairly unbelievable. Other than being able to walk through walls there really was no other way, unless she had an accomplice in the form of CJ. Even so, it seemed far fetched that such a small cat should make such a difficult journey just to get into our little house. Back in February, when we had the snow, I saw tell tale cat footprints on the roof next door and I suppose she must walk along the fence, over the top of the gate, across the gym roof and somehow make it up onto the windowsill from there. I wonder how many other houses she breaks into? Do other people give her cat treats?
Her owners, our loud, angry neighbours, have had a succession of pets. There was an Alsatian puppy that used to escape all the time and come into our garden if the gate was open. That didn’t last long, probably because a dog takes a lot of looking after, and we never did find out what they did with it. There have been other cats too but Fluffy seems to be a record breaker in terms of how long they’ve had her. Hopefully she won’t suddenly disappear like the others because I have to admit I quite like her and CJ would be heart broken, he spends hours playing with her.
Fluffy started scratching at the French window while we were eating breakfast this morning. We’ve made a rod for our own backs with the cat treats for sure, although, to be fair, she does appear most mornings as soon as her cat senses tell her someone is up. She’s like a little meercat, standing on her back legs trying to peer inside and scrabbling at the window. This can go on for hours, or until someone relents and let’s her in.
When Commando opened the door to go out for his run she was inside like a flash. There was a bit of sniffing round meowing, trying to find the cat treats, then her head popped up over the arm of the sofa and she looked at me accusingly. Commando, being far more of a soft touch, relented and got some treats to lure her outside again. At this rate she’ll be too fat to climb in through the bathroom window by summer.
While Commando was out on his run I went up the Big Hill with CJ for milk. No sooner had we closed the door than the rain started falling. I had to go back and get a hat and, as I opened the door, Fluffy shot inside. Of course this meant we had to chase her out again. Maybe we should install a cat flap then she could come and go as she pleased. It would also save us running round the gym like lunatics trying to shoo her outside.
Seems to me Sunday would be better named Rainday as I swear it rains more often on a Sunday than any other day. This is not a scientific study you understand, just anecdotal. Even so, it does seem there are grounds for contacting the Trades Descriptions people. If they’re going to call something Sunday then surely there should be sun! This particular rainy Sunday was a day of rest, apart from the little shopping jaunt and the cooking of a roast dinner. Next week is going to be a manic one so lazing about on the sofa watching Sky+ for most of the day felt like a necessary gathering of strength. Somehow I think I’m going to need it.