saucy_dryad

Something about the odd configuration of our house: our main entrance is the sliding glass door into the kitchen, located at the rear of the house. Since my kitchen (and come to it, my entire house) is ever so wee, it's pretty much Door!Kitchen!Rest of Living Room/Dining Room!

I feed the kitties under the butcher block countertop. It butts up against the sliding door. This might seem a cause for caution, but all my girls are indoor cats and - aside from one brief, crazy foray by Zee into the unknown (ie: two paws out of the door and onto the step) - they seem content to remain so. Lately, though, there's been some interest in crossing the border. Not by my girls, mind. No. It's the bold, outdoor adventurer, Handsome Tom, who's started to show a marked interest in the other, gentler side of the door. Fortunately for us, he's got lovely manners. If you say, "Back!" when you open the door, he hops down from the step and retreats to a respectable distance. If you should neglect to issue that command, however...

Don fed HT tonight. And he forgot to say the Magic Word. It went something like this:

Don, hoodied and clutching a flashlight and a plastic cup of kitty food, opens the door.
HT sees his opening.
My four girls freeze. They stare.
Don speaks: "He's in!"
HT is sniffing at the water dish. He does not seem displeased.
I dart in amidst four still unmoving felines to scoop HT into my arms and take him back outside.
He flicks his tail before trotting after Don and the promise of kitty kibble in the cold gym.
Inside, the four girls are still frozen in position. "What," they demand, "was that?"

"Heh!" I say, and retreat to my battered copy of 'Tam Lin.'










crap. we are so going to end up with five indoor kitties.