The Wonders of Oakley

Saturday night Criss and I finally got around to watching one of the many volumes of the BBC production Planet Earth. We have been trying for several weeks now to view these but something always comes up. We settled on the couch in the basement, got the DVD started, and just as I got comfortable I hear Amberley start crying her new location cry (yes, I can tell different things from the way Amberley cries) which means she is up to no good and has found her way into a closet or room or some space that she is not supposed to be in. It was this cry that alerted me that she was wandering around in the crawl space under our roof that has exposed insulation and the same cry she used when she found her way into the drop ceiling in the basement. I am very wary when I hear that cry. This time it wasn't something so dramatic; she was in the room where the furnace and water heater are. Not too surprising because the door is slightly ajar to allow a tube to run from our dehumidifier to the drain by the water heater. So, I got up, shooed her out, and closed the door tightly as I could with the hose blocking the door. In other words, the door was still cracked. This is a crucial point to the next step in the story. Anyway, I settle back down to watch Planet Earth and Oakley starts crying. I am not as adept at deciphering Oakley's cries, though they are as varied as Amberley's. It sounded like she was playing, which she does a lot, but she wouldn't stop. I called for her. Criss called for her. We both called for her at the same time. Her cries would stop for a minute then start up again. This probably went on for about 10 minutes or so and I could tell Criss was getting pissed so I went to find her hoping if I gave her some pets she would shut up. I went upstairs. No Oakley. I went into the bedroom. No Oakely. I went to the second floor where she often plays. No Oakley. I'm starting to panic a little. I go back to the basement and look under the stairs. No Oakley. I run all around the house one last time before going back to the basement where I found Oakley. She was sitting behind the door to the furnace/water heater room. The door that was slightly propped open. The door that if she has simply pushed on it it would have opened for her. Instead of easily letting herself out she stood behind that door for 10 minutes and cried. Oakley is the cat that was on the streets for the first year of her life before being taken to the shelter. After I had freed Oakley and she went on her merry way, I started to wonder how she ever managed to survive a year when she couldn't even push open a door to let herself out. I am very grateful to whoever it was that took Oakley to the shelter were we found her (a wonderful place called the League for Animal Welfare) because her survival instinct sucks and I'm not sure how much longer she would have made it! I still love her, lack of instinct and all (but I can't speak for Criss ;-) ).

This is a picture of the lucky-to-be alive cat.

I warned you about my cat obsession!