Our house is perfect for Samantha, who loves to explore every nook, corner, and half-opened door. Roger likes to call this activity “noodling.” Sam has a real knack for noodling. It's only natural for a cat to be curious, after all; right? Well, the other night Sam’s natural curiosity got her into a whole heap of trouble.
It all centered on an access panel for the plumbing to the upstairs bathtub. (Is this sounding ominous yet?) The panel had been painted shut, so it took some effort for us to pry it open. We had to get in there because the bathtub faucets needed fixing. Roger had anticipated the job would be easy; but that turned out not to be the case. So, rather than wedge the panel back in place only to have to pry it open again later on for a plumber, we left it just leaning against the opening.
And it so happens this access panel is on a section of wall that can be covered by a bedroom door when it's left open. So, as insurance against the possibility of a certain black and white cat discovering it, we also left the door in this open position.
So it should’ve registered with us that trouble was brewing when Roger came back from a visit to the bathroom in the middle of the night and asked me “Why is the guest bedroom door half closed?”
“I don’t know.” I said. We thought nothing more of it and both fell back to sleep.
Sometime later (Who knows how long? It’s hard to tell when you’re trying to sleep.) we awoke to a strange sound of sliding wood and then a door slamming. Funny how these things have a way of practically giving you a heart attack; even when you have cats and should know better.
“What the Hell was that?!?” said Roger.
“I don’t know,” I said. We both got up to investigate.
It turns out Sam had continued with her exploration, and had managed to knock down the access panel, which slid across the half-closed bedroom door causing it to slam shut.
Now causing us near heart failure would be bad enough, but our little darling had also somehow managed to knock the wood panel down in such a way that it was wedged between the wall and the door; and no matter how you tried, you couldn’t open the door. Yes, Samantha had locked herself in the bedroom!
“What do we do?” said Roger.
I was instantly worried that Samantha would try to continue her noodling and find her way into the spaces between the bathtub and the walls and floors of the house and get stuck there like some victim in an awful Edgar Allen Poe story.
We had to get her out of there ASAP. Thoughts of breaking and climbing through the 2nd floor bedroom window from a ladder (while the neighbors called the police) came to mind.
But I had another idea: I found a yardstick and slid it under the door until I knocked the wood panel down and free from the door. Sam was in there alright; but just for a second longer. She shot out of there like a cat out of hell and down the stairs.
Crisis averted. And it turns out that, as Roger explained later, there was not really enough room behind the tub for any cat to squeeze. But it just goes to show you that you don’t need small children to have to deal with family members accidentally locking themselves into rooms.
It all centered on an access panel for the plumbing to the upstairs bathtub. (Is this sounding ominous yet?) The panel had been painted shut, so it took some effort for us to pry it open. We had to get in there because the bathtub faucets needed fixing. Roger had anticipated the job would be easy; but that turned out not to be the case. So, rather than wedge the panel back in place only to have to pry it open again later on for a plumber, we left it just leaning against the opening.
And it so happens this access panel is on a section of wall that can be covered by a bedroom door when it's left open. So, as insurance against the possibility of a certain black and white cat discovering it, we also left the door in this open position.
So it should’ve registered with us that trouble was brewing when Roger came back from a visit to the bathroom in the middle of the night and asked me “Why is the guest bedroom door half closed?”
“I don’t know.” I said. We thought nothing more of it and both fell back to sleep.
Sometime later (Who knows how long? It’s hard to tell when you’re trying to sleep.) we awoke to a strange sound of sliding wood and then a door slamming. Funny how these things have a way of practically giving you a heart attack; even when you have cats and should know better.
“What the Hell was that?!?” said Roger.
“I don’t know,” I said. We both got up to investigate.
It turns out Sam had continued with her exploration, and had managed to knock down the access panel, which slid across the half-closed bedroom door causing it to slam shut.
Now causing us near heart failure would be bad enough, but our little darling had also somehow managed to knock the wood panel down in such a way that it was wedged between the wall and the door; and no matter how you tried, you couldn’t open the door. Yes, Samantha had locked herself in the bedroom!
“What do we do?” said Roger.
I was instantly worried that Samantha would try to continue her noodling and find her way into the spaces between the bathtub and the walls and floors of the house and get stuck there like some victim in an awful Edgar Allen Poe story.
We had to get her out of there ASAP. Thoughts of breaking and climbing through the 2nd floor bedroom window from a ladder (while the neighbors called the police) came to mind.
But I had another idea: I found a yardstick and slid it under the door until I knocked the wood panel down and free from the door. Sam was in there alright; but just for a second longer. She shot out of there like a cat out of hell and down the stairs.
Crisis averted. And it turns out that, as Roger explained later, there was not really enough room behind the tub for any cat to squeeze. But it just goes to show you that you don’t need small children to have to deal with family members accidentally locking themselves into rooms.
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Ahhh... Back to sleep. The rest of the night would have been peaceful – Except about an hour later our dear little Dusty decided that in order to drink out of a plastic water bowl he had to stand with his paw on the edge. (No rocket scientist he; but we loves him anyway.) Amazing how a plastic bowl can make such a loud and peculiar sound unlike anything you ever heard, so as to wake you up from a deep sleep wondering what the hell existed in your house that could ever make such a sound, and what could possibly have caused it to happen. The answer to the second part of the question should've been obvious: Cats. But we never seem to learn.
2 comments:
bad cats!! very bad cats!!
give them hugs for me.
But cute, which is why we all put up with them being bad!
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