I am feeling somewhat murderous toward my kitty tonight. She managed to open the screen door and leap off of my balcony to the ground below, all while I wasn't looking. And my other kitty, George, was surprisingly oblivious to it all and missed his chance to escape with her. I then spent the next half hour tramping through the trees, bushes and parking lot looking for my cat. How embarrassing. I must have looked like an idiot tramping around, looking under cars, and calling "Kitty, Kitty, Food Time". The worst thing is that I caught sight of her a few times and she ran away. Now Avery is my kitty and she loves me as much as I love her, but something happens when she goes outside: she becomes a feral thing that won't even come at the promise of food. I finally snagged her, puffy tail and all, as she dashed around a corner and brought her back to the apartment where I'm sure she told George all about it. George is now in a very crummy mood, and I suspect that he is cursing his own inattention to the screen door. Escape was within his grasp, and he let it slip away.
Ah well, Georgie, better luck next time. Although there won't be a next time if I can help it. As of now, all balcony privileges have been suspended.
As a side note, isn't it interesting about librarians and cats? Almost all of my co-workers have cats. JS has two kitties (she had three, but one died last year at the age of 22), and CG has five cats and one dog. It would be interesting to do a survey and see just what percentage of librarians actually have cats.