A white cat jumped out from behind one of the trash cans when we pulled into the driveway of Our Humble O’Bode this evening. My Darling B said something like, “Hey, that cat looks a lot like Scooter!” The cat ran to the front of the house and jumped through an open window into the living room, then looked back at us from the window. It was Scooter!
Why was there an open window to the living room? Because we changed the storm windows for screens last weekend and apparently didn’t swing the arms into the upright locked position. I’m guessing one of the cats was sitting in the window watching chipmunks run back and forth as they always do, and when one got too close, the cat jumped at it and ran face-first into the screen, as they always do, except this time the screen swung open and the cat, after freaking out at least a tiny little bit, suddenly realized he was finally going to be able to get his claws on that goddamn chipmunk this time, and off he went!
What really surprised me was that Scooter jumped out, but Sparky didn’t. Here I thought Sparky was our little ball of trouble, but Scooter’s the one who bolted for the outdoors while Sparky sat in the window and watched. I suppose it’s possible Sparky went out, then came back in when he heard the cat feeder crank out some food. That’s absolutely something Sparky would do. “I could stay out here, having fun chasing chipmunks, or I could go back in and have all the kibble to myself. Hmmm. Seems like a no-brainer.”
Boo went outside, too, but she’s done that before, so I kind of expected that of her. She doesn’t give a shit what we think she should do, and if she wants to go outside, she’s going to go outside. She’s not going to do anything when she gets there, though. I found her sitting in the middle of the back porch, glaring at me through the window as if to say, “Are you going to open the door for me, or what?” Because that’s exactly how she is.