There is a cat on the other side of this door. I cannot hear her, but I know she is there. It’s our new kitty, Mimi.
I need to go upstairs to the bathroom, but I do not want this cat to get into the basement. The last time she did that, she slithered into a storage area, and I was afraid she would never come out. Then she pried open the folding doors to the heating area, and I was worried she would get burned in there. When I finally coaxed her out, she disappeared behind the reclining couch. I have read horror stories about cats getting squashed in these things, so I was afraid to use the recliner. It was hard to enjoy the basketball game under those circumstances.
Needless to say, I am not about to let that happen again.
My wife is shouting instructions at me, “Open the door, ever so slightly, then use your knee to keep the cat from getting by. That should give you enough time to close the door. Don’t worry,” she’s laughing now, “Persian cats aren’t very bright. I am sure you can handle it. It’s easy. ”
Ha, ha, I am thinking. This cat has already gotten the better of me at least two other times. It’s not happening today, I resolve, as I open the door just enough to watch Mimi fly through my legs and into the room.
“It didn’t work,” I shout upstairs. “You have to block the door with your knee,” she says, laughing. “I did that…Oh, whatever.”
Fortunately, I am not yet defeated. I have taken the precaution of closing the doors to every trouble area in the basement. Everything is fine. What possible harm can the cat do now?
I am in the middle of explaining this to my wife when I hear it.