It’s a lovely late fall day. In the thirties but the sun is shining and the cats have been going in and out. It’s been a pretty seasonable fall for them and they’ve been making the best of it. They run out, they run in, they sun themselves, they cavort in the long shadows of late afternoon, and they always come in when it gets too cold or too late. Except Sansa.
Sansa, seen above, is under house arrest. Grounded for life. Banned from the Great Outdoors. A few days after her last great adventure that I posted about, she went missing again for about eighteen hours. That was the final straw. Since then she has not gone outside at all. She pines at the door. She screams and bitches. She races around the house and swats with great anger at her toys. And then she falls asleep, forgetting about her wretched existence, living only to cuddle and purr. Until she wakes up again.
I don’t know how long we can keep this up. She is a clever and willful beast. We have a pocket door between our laundry room and the kitchen. Faced with this door closed the cats flail away, unable to do more than rattle and shake this unholy barrier. Sansa can open it in about five seconds flat. She is an escape artist without peer and she knows damn well it’s just a matter of time. So we watch, wait, and stand guard.
Soon enough winter will hit and her need to roam will be curtailed by a dislike of snow and wind but winter is taking its time getting here. We took the dogs to the farm and they were overjoyed, stomping around and peeing everywhere. A couple of the cats are outside and the rest are asleep, recovering from their brief time out in the brisk air. And Sansa waits, and waits…