We have five cats. Not on purpose; it just happened that way. They all came to us for good reasons, and amazingly, they all get along—mostly. Nala, our one female, came from a house with a dog, and she spent most of her days in the cellar to avoid him. When we adopted her, she was the only cat in the house.
Some months later, I read about a local animal shelter who had several “Desperate Housecats” who had been there for over six months and needed homes. I fell in love with an all-black male named Pagan. I adopted him, and as I got to know him, I changed his name to Pookie, which suited him much better.
Then there were the two stray cats we fed for months and then adopted; Plumpy-Nut and Tinker. We still don’t know to this day if anyone ever owned them, but we finally just took them to our vet, and had them neutered and micro-chipped. They both fit in well with Nala and Pookie.
When the time came when Dad could no longer take proper care of his cat, Bailey, we brought him home with our gang. Later on, Dad moved in with us as well, so now we are all one happy family!
Living with five cats is at once fun and unpredictable. We recently found out that Tinker has some serious skills. The other day was a hot one for this time of year; it was about 85 degrees. Most of the cats were lounging on the back porch, Tinker included.
I happened to look out of the kitchen door, and to my horror, the screen door on the porch was open! Bear in mind that all five cats are indoor only. So hollering to the Crankee Yankee that he forgot to close the damned door, I went flying out to round up the cats.
Bailey and Nala came running in; they really aren’t too keen on the great outdoors anyway. The other two cats, Plumpy and Pookie, were already in the house. That left Tinker, who has never forgotten the joys of being outside.
As we went looking for him, the Crankee Yankee swore that he did not leave the door open. We found Tinker strolling in the back yard as if he owned the place. We got him inside and the Crankee Yankee said, “y’know, I really think that Tinker knows how to open that door.”
I rolled my eyes at him and said that was nuts; how could he? But we have noticed that Tinker always likes to scratch on the wooden frame of the porch door; in fact, right beside the latch.
And you know what? I think he figured out how to open the door. He is tall enough to reach the latch, and all he would have to do is to push it in, and the door would open. So now if any of the cats are on the back porch, we lock that door. (So far he hasn’t figured that out—yet.)
So we now call him Tinker Houdini, the feline escape artist. Good grief—what next?