Cammie did not come to breakfast this morning. If she doesn’t like what is on the menu she will at least smell it, and perhaps taste it, before registering a complaint with the management. If she is sick, she will stay away from the food all together. She will often resort to the cylinder-shaped house on the cat-tree downstairs. After I fed the other beasts, I went to look for her, fearing illness. She was not there.
Nor was she snoozing under the bed, against the wall. This is another of her hiding spots, where she goes when, though not necessarily ill, she still wants to be away from the other cats, and probably from me. She was not there, either.
I was becoming a little worried. I started searching for her, wherever I thought she may be, under the kitchen sink, under the bathroom basin, up a cat-tree, at the litter-boxes. She was nowhere to be found.
Then, I remembered I had put away my pyjamas earlier. I am usually careful about making sure no cat is left behind when I shut a door. I opened the door to the bedroom closet - and there she was. The princess had not raised a fuss, but was waiting patiently - not a prominent trait of hers - for freedom. She trotted out amidst my apologies and received a belated breakfast, which she enjoyed.
I have done this rarely in the years I have had cats. I remember I did this twice to Tungsten, and, I think, once to Josie. They are such silent creatures, when they wish to be, and closets, with their usually closed doors, hold an allure for them. This is why I always say good-bye to each beast individually when I go to work for the day, and make sure I know where each is when I go to bed at night. They are easily lost even within a building, and not every room or space in a house is somewhere a cat should be.
Fortunately, Cammie was not distressed by her inadvertent imprisonment, and all ended well. Perhaps I should be glad that she, and the others, are unable to master doorknobs, from either the inside or the outside…