This guy is Homicidal Squirrel, Jr. Or, maybe the Third, Esq. It's not like he provides identification outside of his aggressive chittering and stunts.
Recently, Penelope's been wanting to join me on the deck for some outdoor adventures. We actually did let her out a few weeks ago, assuming she'd be occupied for a bit with all the new stuff to smell and rub her face on. No sooner had we let her out, though, and she made a beeline for the neighbors' deck. After much coaxing, Mike finally threw his arms up and proceeded to climb over our deck rail to our neighbors' deck. He was tired and coming off the adrenaline rush of having completed his first triathlon, and really wasn't up for wrestling with a little cat. I guess Penny picked up on that, because as soon as he was between the two decks, she frolicked back over to home, where I scooped her up and deposited her back in the house.
Since then, as soon as the back door opens, Penelope's RIGHT THERE, hoping to escape.
Now, who could this be?
The damn feline trollop gets so worked up about the possibility of coming outside in the outside world where there is outside air and outside stuff, that she gets at least one claw stuck in the storm door EVERY time she begs to come out. This, invariably, cracks me up, and I leave her stuck, one paw raised as if in some weird person-to-cat game of Mother, May I? until I take pity on her and help get her free. Usually, she's only hung up for 10 seconds - I'm fairly frightened she might freak out and damage her claws if left in the stuck position longer, BUT I also want to give her a chance to free herself - you'd think since she's done this manuever enough times, she'd have figured out a way to free herself.
Oh, I know who it is! Penelope!
Next up: our getaway weekend!