Hi All,

The cat that I had as a late teen and young adult, well actually it
was my mother's cat, was an unaltered male named The Puddy (rhymes
with woody).  He was a very well behaved boy who never sprayed in the
house, but he loved to roam and in warm weather could make his own way
in and out of the wood framed screen door, which was usually unlocked,
at the rear of the house.

In the winter, with snow on the ground, he still liked to roam, but of
course he couldn't manage a closed regular door.  This led to an
exasperating behavior.  If he was out, he frequently ignored all
attempts to call him in, stayed out till everyone had gone to bed, and
later meowed loudly from the tree that grew next to one of the bedroom
windows.  Naturally, this behavior was frowned upon by the human
inhabitants of the house.  So when it got to be to be seven in the
evening and someone had to go out,  if he was in, he would not be let
out voluntarily .

The Puddy was not to be deterred though.  When the door was opened, he
would make a dash for it, often tangling himself in the feet of those
trying to make an exit.  This turned into an elaborate set of dance
steps as the person or persons going out tried to make an exit while
nudging the  cat away from the door.

This worked for a while till The Puddy realized that the way to
accomplish his mission was to hide under the chair that was right by
the door.  Then, as soon as the door was opened enough to allow egress
by a human, he'd be on the screened-in porch.  At this point, he would
be picked up, and tossed - gently - back into the house.  He soon
tired of this insulting treatment and started to hide under the chair
on the porch, trying to make his exit as he had from the living room.
This chair though was not as close to the door.   This led to more of
the cat dance as mentioned above.

The trick, as far as the humans were concerned, became to fake opening
the door just enough to lure the cat into trying to make good his
escape but then close the door with one  hand while reaching down with
the other hand to grab the recalcitrant cat and toss him - again,
gently - back into the house.

This quickly became a contest of skill and daring, which I believe The
Puddy greatly enjoyed.  The humans would tire of this faster than that
silly old cat would and they would often accede to his wishes.  This
was usually accompanied by statements such as, "Oh, just let the damn
cat out.  Maybe he'll come in when we call him for once."

Eventually this led to yet another bizarre cat-person behavior,
exiting by the back door where there was no place for a restless
pussycat to hide, and walking in the snow, however deep, around the
house to the car which was parked in the driveway in front of the
house.  

It's amazing how things like walking an extra hundred feet through the
snow somehow become normal when you own cats.

Regards and Purrs,
O J (Old John) Gritmon