Every year, in the spring, I replace the storm windows in my house with screens. They are in frames that fit snugly into the larger window frame; snugly but not tightly. I am always afraid that a determined cat would be able to push out a screen and escape. If he were pushing enough to throw the screen to the grass outside, then the cause of such activity may be enough to attract him into the back lawn, and even farther afield. I therefore secure the screens with screws and t-shaped plates.
This process has not been tested until now. The screen in question is in the parlour, where my current foster-cat, Noah, is confined during the day. It is telling, I think, that this energetic youngster is here at the time when I noticed something different about the screen.
It has been forced outward, to such an extent that the metal plate holding it in the window frame has been bent. The screen itself is tough; it is not the soft mesh that one often finds these days. I believe the screen is as old as the house; that is, about sixty years, and was made when durability was highly rated by manufacturers. It has remained firmly in place, and, thanks to the precautions I took, so has the frame.
I take no credit for such measures. As when one has children, a cat-owner knows that whatever trouble a cat can get into, a cat probably will get into, especially a nine month old kitten with a young adult’s strong body. And just as a policeman may never be called upon to prevent a crime on the beat he walks, it is good to know that he is there in case something untoward occurs.
Thank you, constable.