stereotypical single woman

My cats are indoor cats. They are safer and healthier because they live indoors, I feel very strongly about this. I don’t have to constantly worry about them being hit by a car, being abused by assholes, ending up at the Humane Society, getting into a fight with another animal, catching contagious diseases, etc… And this does my stress levels wonders. They have ample room to run around indoors, toys to play with, windows to look out of, and furniture to climb. They live a very charmed and pampered indoor kitty life.

As strongly as I feel that my boys should remain indoors, Marty feels that he should be an indoor/outdoor cat. According to him he’s a free spirit that just needs to swing both ways. I’m crushing his soul by not letting him outdoors. A part of him dies every time he is not let out when he wants to go out. I simply chuckle every time he tries to have this discussion with me, pat him on the head, and tell him that maybe, someday, far in the future he can go outside when we have a house of our own and a cat proof fence with no over-hanging branches. But not until then.

We’re currently in Grand Rapids visiting my family for the weekend. The boys love it here, particularly because my parents have a 3 season porch they can sit in, sun themselves, and watch the outside world. Except when it’s freezing cold outside they are allowed to roam between the house and the porch whenever they feel like it. It’s an enclosed area. They’re safe there. The only route of escape is either through the door to the back deck or the dog door. None of the cats have shown the slightest interest in using the dog door. In fact they have always seemed terrified of it, taking off as soon as a dog entered or exited. And honestly, I thought Marty was just too dumb to figure out how to use it.

Well, this morning I was out checking on my roses in the backyard. They all seem to have survived the winter, some better than the others, so I was babying the few that didn’t have much growth. A little extra Rosetone, some new dirt from the compost pile mixed into the top few inches of dirt, a little extra mulch around the base of the plant. Basically just putzing around when I felt something rub against my leg. Something orange and furry. Marty had decided to join me in the garden.

My heart stopped.

I have never grabbed anything so fast in my life. We were across the yard and back in the house in record time. I know he hadn’t gotten out when I went out the door. I had seen him in the window, watching me as I was working in the garden. I know it’s my fault for assuming that he was too dumb to use a dog door. I take full responsibility for my failure to be a responsible pet owner in this situation. But damn, that little fucker is still going to pay for giving me a heart attack.

Because of his actions Ms. Prynne is once again marked, except this time the scarlet letter is blue, sparkly, and has a cute little pink bell.

And Harvey and Foster are mad as hell that all unsupervised porch time privileges have been revoked until further notice.