As a Maine Coon, I must admit that I have a little bit of wild in my soul. I was born to roam the wilderness, but my pets have some mistaken notion that I’m safer if I stay inside. So … I take matters into my own hands. I lie in wait, hidden behind a chair near the door. I’m very patient, waiting for someone, at some point, to open that door without seeing me. And then opportunity comes knocking.
My pet is walking to the door. Her hands are full. The big dumb creature (I believe they call him a dog) is by her side, and she’s talking to him. It’s what I wait for all day – inattention. She opens the door while trying to balance the things in her arms. The dog races through, opening the screen door ahead of her. It’s my moment – I do not hesitate! I fly through the opening into the sweet arms of freedom! I race for the deck, knowing I’m unreachable when I’m under there.
I win! But wait just a minute – was that a rain drop hitting my beautiful head? This is totally unacceptable. I run back to the door, as the storm starts in earnest. As they open the door to me, I don’t let them sense my urgency. I waltz past, with my tail held high like a banner, and let them know in no uncertain terms that they have been bested, and I am completely unconcerned about the weather. After all, there’s always tomorrow, and their memories are thankfully short.