Mister, the escape artist

This morning my cat Mister escaped. It is not the first time, and I know it will not be the last. My husband went to grab the newspaper, and in that split second Mister darted. Believe me, we are constantly vigilant, but invariably he finds an out, a window of opportunity (more like a sliver of an open door). I have chronicled his escape escapades too many times because there have been too many times.

The reason we are so overprotective of him is because he once ran away and was gone for two weeks and two days. He came back thin, with fleas, but otherwise okay. But I was not okay for two weeks and two days, and I am not going to go through that again. I know we are depriving him of the natural world he loves so much. When he does escape, as in this morning, he runs from backyard to front yard and back again, stopping at favorite bushes and tracking birds as they fly overhead. He is in his element, and he is one happy frolicking Mister. He eludes capture at every turn, as we stand out there in the freezing cold (it was sleeting this morning) begging him, offering treats, doing everything we can to lure him back to safety and warmth.

We have purchased cat tents and tunnels. He lasts five minutes before he meows to get out, refusing to be confined.  Mister has found a way to roll around in the mesh tunnel so that he propels it from the spot it was in, to practically the front of the yard. We have taken him out on a leash, but he has squirmed his way out of the leash.

Ninety percent of the time Mister sleeps on our beds and sofas, snuggles up with us, and is the sweetest, most loving cat you can imagine. He views the outside world from inside, through the open window, with undivided attention and amazement. But in those rare moments, he needs an escape route. And the struggle continues.