Ever since we moved into the Kitten Farm West, we've been dreading the day one of the cats decides to explore the garage. But we always thought it would be Fearless Billy, or Door-darter Whitey. Not Oscar. Oscar would never do that!
Yep, guess whose tail I saw vanishing into the garage as the laundry room door closed behind me when I came in last night. Yikes!
The good news is that we have a very strict protocol: the garage door must be closed before the house door opens. The bad news is that Drew was expected home at any moment, and would unknowingly push the button to open the garage door automatically.
(The intelligent thing to do would have been to call his cell to warn him. I wasn't calm enough to think of that.)
Being Oscar, he instantly decided the garage was a Bad Place, and hid under the MINI. Under the exact geographic center of the MINI. It's a small car, but not that small: I couldn't reach him. He ignored kitty treats.
There is a moment in every frustrated parent's life where they say "F@#% it, I don't have time for this!" and resort to brute strength to get their recalcitrant child to do what they want. With Drew's arrival imminent, I stuck a broom under the car to chase him out.
He hissed, he growled, he ran straight for the house door. Which was closed. When I got close enough to open it, he ran back under the car. I chased him out again... we played that game a couple of times, then I got to the door fast enough to open it and he went through as if shot from a cannon. Right through the other three cats who were hovering on the other side of the door.
He's none the worse for wear. He even ate dinner normally, which surprised me. Often that kind of trauma sends him into hiding. Here's hoping he's learned his lesson.
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