Kitties in a Doorway

We have three cats but only one of them is an outdoor cat.

When we adopted Camille, in 2018, we had learned that she had been brought to the Humane Society after being found in the streets. She had no collar, no microchip, nothing to indicate that she belonged to anyone.

And because she seemed skittish around people, we had the feeling that she hadn't been treated very well as a kitten.

But every opportunity that she had to get outdoors, she took it. Our oldest cat, Edwin, was an outdoor cat so we felt that they would keep each other company and hopefully keep each other safe. But Edwin did his own thing, hopping fences and paying visits to our neighbours, who all got along with him.

Camille couldn't jump like Edwin. For him, a two-metre fence was no match. For Camille, anything over a metre might as well have been a mountain.

When the pandemic came along, we were reluctant to let Camille roam the streets. Not knowing much about COVID, we had no idea if she could carry the virus and pass it on, so we shored up all of the gaps at the bottom of our backyard fence and kept her gated in. Because she can't jump, there's never been a risk that she could get to the top of the fence.

We now have two more cats who came to our family. They were born on a farm and we adopted them when they were only two months old. These cats, a brother and a sister, can jump. We've decided that they will be indoor cats, because on the odd times that they've snuck outdoors, they've run.

Fortunately, we've always been able to find them, and as they've grown older, they're less bold and won't wander past our immediate neighbours. Still, we keep them indoors.

And boy, do they hate when we go outside and stay within sight.

At this time of year, DW and I like to spend time sitting on our front porch: often, enjoying a beer, or wine, or cocktail. And while we sit out front, we can hear Finn and Cece, crying and wailing to come outside.

Last Friday, as my work week wrapped up, I grabbed a pint and sat on the porch. It was a lovely day, with the weekend looking mostly sunny, and I wanted to unwind and get in the mood for a long weekend. The whole time, though, I could hear the two cats wailing on the other side of the door.

Kid 1, though, was having a hard time, on the inside, listening to Finn and Cece. She came to the door, tried to distract them (Cece is so in love with Kid 1 and often follows her around the house, looking to be picked up and cuddled), but the cats just wanted out.

So Kid 1 opened the door, just a crack, and said to me, "Can you hear these two?"

"Oh, is that what I was hearing?" I joked.

The two had their faces pressed inside the gap in the door, hoping to get out, but my daughter held the door in place. The cats looked adorable, so I picked up my smartphone, crouched close to the cats, and took this shot.

Even though these cats are almost three years old, they look like kittens in this shot. It made me think of how time has passed so quickly since the start of the pandemic, and yet, in some ways, time has stood still.

No, they didn't get out this time. And also, I need to repaint my front doorway.

Happy Tuesday!