Rome of the West

HAVING NOW been a cat owner for a year, I finally realize how parents of teenagers must feel, especially when they manage to sneak out of the house late at night, and don't come back until the morning.  Since I live on a major street, I worry about traffic accidents.  And there are those bad kind of boys who make sport of attacking little animals.  And then they could get fleas.  Or taken.

And like any liberal parent, I am happy that my animals have been fixed and so can't get pregnant.  Hm.  It's funny how modern enlightened thought lowers people to the level of animals.

If I lived in the country, then I'd have no problem with cats being outside most of the time, but since I live in the dangerous city, things are a bit different.

So I've adopted some strategies that will give them freedom, but not too much.  If they want to go out when snow is on the ground, or when it is raining, then by all means, I will let them out, or even push them out, knowing that the cats will be soon back inside.  What is particularly fun is when the cats make a run for the outdoors, only to realize that it is raining; and so they turn around and try to get back in again.  Nope, sorry.  The door is shut.  There is something amusing about a soaking wet cat, too.

They are also creatures of habit.  If they have a favorite window inside the house, then they are often found sitting outside of the same window.  My cats tend to be rather quiet, but outdoors they start meowing loudly, making them rather easy to find.  When it is getting late, I just go to their favorite places, listen for loud cat racket, then scoop them up and take them inside.  When all else fails, their food bowl is their greatest attraction to home.