Mr. Zeeper's Field Trip

As I sat in the front porch swing and enjoying the warm sunshine today, Mr. Zeepers began knocking on the inside of the storm door -- he wanted OUT. So I relented; I figured a little time in the Great Outdoors would be good for him. He's a big snowshoe Siamese, but he is rarely allowed outside. We ALWAYS keep our eyes on him when he's outside, because he's been known to take an excursion or two next door. But he so much enjoys wriggling on his back on the front sidewalk -- who wouldn't like to be outside on a sunny warm spring day? When I opened the door, he made a bee-line to the warm concrete, where he plopped down and rolled over. Once he was done scratching his back, he wandered in the yard beside the porch to find some nice grass to chew on. The mail arrived, and I began to leaf through the letters and papers. A neighbor dropped by, and we sat on the porch and visited a few minutes before going inside to take a look at some work I'd been doing. About an hour later, it occurred to us he was AWOL. I first searched inside, even though I knew I'd forgotten to bring him indoors. I looked in all of his Secret Hiding Places The Humans Aren't Supposed To Know About -- like under the bed covers or on a shelf inside the closet. When it was apparent that I'd broken the cardinal rule about not leaving the Big Cat unattended outdoors, we began searching. We hunted and called, hunted and called. David has a big metal pan he beats on with a stick -- that usually rousts him out because he is quite skittish and afraid of loud noises. But it didn't work this time. David searched across the street, and I went back in the back yard. After a half-hour of calling and searching, I finally spied him: Waaaay back in the easement, behind Wilhelmina's and Mary's houses. He was sitting in some tall grass, underneath the trees, just laughing at me. I made a move to unlatch the fence and he shot back up toward Mary's house. So I ventured over into her back yard. There he sat, acting all nonchalant, just this side of her house. As soon as we made eye contact, I said, "Young man, you better get your butt back up on the porch!!" Mr. Zeepers knew he'd been busted then, and hot-footed it to the porch, ears slicked back like he was running some kind of big cat race. As soon as I opened the door, he shot in like a rocket; he didn't stop until he'd crawled up under the bed covers where he proceeded to pout the rest of the afternoon. He's been placed under house arrest. At least until he can can one of us into letting him play in the sunshine again.