Writings in the Sand

Cats have nine lives but no opposable thumbs

I think it’s time to discuss privacy issues with the cat. I mean, it didn’t bother me when the cat used to go into the bathroom with me, but she doesn’t do that anymore. And it didn’t bother me when she would stick her paws under the door. That was cute, really adorable. These little white paws stuck onto spindly black legs reaching under the door to try to retrieve a piece of paper she’d managed to chase through the gap at the bottom of the door. Wow, so endearing. I don’t mind that at all.

No, the problem is that she tries to open the bathroom door.

The cat knows how doors work. She’s seen us opening doors by turning the door knob. Now, the cat is not equipped with the right size of paw or whatever else she needs to be successful at turning door knobs. Thank goodness. If she ever learns to open the door, my life is over. I already went through this when my son was a toddler. He became the reason for highly placed locks and chains on doors. I am older and less resourceful, I could not handle it.

No, the cat tries but cannot open the bathroom door. What she can do is rattle the door knob which always gives me a start, thinking someone is about to walk in on me. The knob rattles, it shakes, nearly turns and I begin to form a warning scream when I suddenly realize it’s the cat.

It’s like living through a brief, tense scene in a horror movie, but only for a moment and there is no danger. So, not like a horror movie at all, but you will allow my exaggerated emotional response. The thing is, she doesn’t answer when I call out “who is it?” and that’s just what a killer in a movie would do.

But I suppose that if the cat trying to open the door freaks me out, then finding out the cat can talk would be enough to send me over the edge.