Of course, as a cat, I consider these things to be my just due. I'm patient and tolerant when Miss Jerrianne buries her face in my soft fur and says I smell like I live in a cedar chest (must be those real cedar shavings in the new litter!). If she gets too close while I'm grooming myself, I may notice that she could use a little touch up, too. I usually oblige. I wonder how she managed until I came along to see that she doesn't come unraveled.

I follow Miss Jerrianne like a shadow and participate in everything she does ... or I try to, anyway, but she has this thing about lids ... and doors, which seem to be lids on edge. I find lids and doors vastly annoying to creatures with paws and claws instead of opposable thumbs. Why put cat food in a jar with a lid, I ask, in a cupboard behind closed doors? I'd open my own cat food bags if she'd just leave them out on the floor.

Plumbers install strainer lids over drains in bathtubs. I pry 'em out with my claws so rubber balls fit into the drains. I amuse myself trying to retrieve them. The cookie sheet lid over the indoor grill ... what a nuisance that thing is! A lid on the toilet foils my every attempt to fish in it, drink from it, or dive in. I see my reflection ... I reach out ... a hand slides under me, the elevator goes up, the lid comes down, and suddenly I'm standing on top.

The refrigerator door keeps the cold inside and the cat outside. I'd change all that in a hurry. Doors under sinks hide the trash. Try as I might, I haven't made it inside. "That's not for kitty cats!" Miss Jerrianne says, as I beat a retreat. I've been able to keep my tail out of the way of that closing door, so far, but a couple of times I cut it real close. "MEOW!" I said, caught in the act, as I found myself standing at attention, tail straight up, the trailing ends of each hair on my backside caught fast in the doors.

Laundry room, studio, darkroom, light room, several closets and the garage are all off limits, behind closed doors. I just know they are all filled with kitty adventures that I haven't been allowed to experience. Not that I haven't tried. There's plenty of space under the studio door so I can shove my favorite mouse through the slot and let her hunt for it. Once I crouched over the mouse, right by the opening. When Miss Jerrianne opened the door to check, I scooted through, but she caught me. I need a new plan.