If you've been reading my stories for a bit you may recall I've mentioned Charlie-Cat--who isn't bright.
[It was Charlie who had to be rescued from 30 ft up in a tree last spring when he had gotten outdoors and gone missing for three days!]
Charlie enjoys the fenced yard with the other cats, but sometimes scoots outside the house when a door doesn't close quickly.
At such times he disclaims all acquaintance with us and will not be coaxed back indoors.
Catching him turns into a three-ring circus.
Last Thursday Charlie shot out the back door again. We saw him during the day--under our car, lurking in the carport, strolling about the dooryard.
As usual, when approached, he opened his eyes very wide and ran off.
As it drew near supper time, after several futile attempts to corner him, I declared crossly that he could spend the night outside.
On my way to the compost pile, I heard him wailing mournfully.
Investigating, I found that he had gotten inside the hav-a-hart trap--set in the veg garden for yet another possum--and the trap had clanged shut.
Since I can't open the trap's door, I fetched Jim who found the sight of Charlie in the cage quite hilarious.
Willis, on patrol in the dooryard, follows J. to the garden.
The kittens immediately gathered to see what all the fuss was about.
Charlie, unappreciative of rescue attempts, dug his claws into the earth of the garden and hung on as J. tried to extricate him.
Charlie being lugged toward the house.
Charlie was deposited unceremoniously in the cat yard where he seemed to be
contemplating his adventure.
An interesting sequel to Charlie's outing is this: he went out again this weekend and did his lurk-about, popping under the truck whenever I went toward him. In the evening I heard a clattering in the carport and opening the back door saw a large possum lumbering about, shoving
empty cat food dishes in his path.
Charlie let out an impassioned yelp from under the truck and rushed in the open kitchen door.
Since then, he has gone out several times each day and meekly returned, even 'meow'ing to be let in.
Perhaps his feeble brain has recognized the house as a refuge from beasties who rattle in the night.
Perhaps he has simply connected with the thought that he can return to the house without
the process of being rounded up.
We folded up and put away the old furniture quilts and tarps we used to protect the long
row of green beans from the frost.
J. dragged this one--a boat cover I think---to the garage.
Bobby McGee decided to hop aboard for a ride.
Bobby hides in the folds of the tarp.
"How do I get off the magic carpet?"
"Whew! That was a ride!"