I can’t say this enough, I never could, I’ve not stopped trying to get the message across: I love my cat.
It’s ridiculous, really. You’re thinking, Right, Katie, he’s an animal. Stop caring so much.
But then you must realize that he has a sly sense of humor and some odd sense of direction and purpose. Currently, his only goal is to escape from the room he’s in.
John likened him to Rapunzel, which made me laugh. Stuck in his tower, crying out the window for rescue. It’s true. He did spend the better part of an hour one night hollering for other cats to hear.
We installed a new baby gate at the top of the stairs to keep him and the other cats separated. Whenever I open my bedroom door, he’s ready to make the leap to freedom, which usually means he gets to spend a minute or so wandering the upstairs hall and maybe he’ll make it as far as the tub before I am hauling him back to sanctuary. Last night, Dad left him and he somehow managed to open the baby gate. This thing is metal and requires lifting before you can open it. When he got back from moving his car, Cat was sitting by the open gate.
Ah, Carlos, you scoundrel.
I watched this happen when I got home. He puts his paws through the metal bars and when he can’t simply pull it open, he squeezes his head through and once it’s mostly stuck, pulls back with his entire body until the gate opens. Clever creature I have here.
Dentist this morning. Nothing wild to report. Just shiny enamel and some sore gums. (That woman seriously needs to learn her way around my mouth. Every time it’s, “you have such sensitive gums.” jab. stick. poke. bleed.)
Off to Dillon this afternoon to see Aunt Sally. Back tonight or tomorrow due to the doctor’s appointment which should hopefully provide me with malaria pills.
Then it’s a weekend of work before an extended camping trip. (By extended, I mean three nights. Ugh.)