We are still hopelessly, shamelessly in love with Puck and Phoebe…they are now almost 3 months old and are still full of kittenish bounce and frisk. As they get older, though, we approach the moment that makes me very nervous…reopening the cat door to the basement which is open to the outdoors. I grew up out in the country in desert Southern California in a house full of cats and dogs. It would never occur to anyone to have an indoor cat. Cats belonged outside, chasing gophers and horney toads. Over the past 34 years, my husband and I have had a series of cats, most of which have been indoor/outdoor cats. So, imagine my surprise when I approach this next step with such trepidation. They are still so little…totally frisky and fearless and little. We started off with supervised outings on the porch…moved on to letting them descend the stairs to the lawn…then sighed when they first found the cat door, and then almost immediately found the secret step up to the open well window and out into the wide world.
It’s like having kids…you start out with the confines of their world being wherever you are. Gradually they grow up and away and hopefully your good parenting helps them find their way once they take that big step out the door. But it sure isn’t easy to watch them walk away…or, in the case of Puck and Phoebe, frisk away!