Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Locked out

Early this morning, I took some cans out to the recycling bin in the garage, turned around, and discovered that the door that leads from the garage to the kitchen had locked behind me. I ended up standing on our front porch in my pajamas (NKOTB concert t-shirt and baggy pink plaid pants) ringing the doorbell repeatedly in hopes that my loving family would come rescue me.

For a long, long, long time, the only member of my loving family who responded to my doorbell ringing was, of course, Garland. She ran to the door and then stared at me through the window. For a few seconds, I had foolish hopes that maybe she'd rush off to get help, Lassie-style. Of course, she did not. It didn't even occur to her to go get help. Garland is a cat. Cats don't know how to be helpful.

Finally, after the doorbell had been ringing continually for about 10 minutes, WCK sensed that maybe something was amiss, and she went to get Jay. I'm back inside the house, no thanks to the cat. I hope the neighbors understand.


Sandy said...

Cat thoughts on seeing you outside: "Hah, that'll teach you to not check the door lock."
"I do not do 'opening doors.' Come in through the cat door like I do."
"You think I am here to be at your beck and call? Wrong. It is the other way around."
"What? You don't jump when I call for my dinner. See what it's like to wait?"
I have cats and I can hear their thoughts... it is not pretty what they say when they think I am not listening.

KimmyB said...

Great blog Karen! Just wanted to say you made CureTalk's top 10 MM blog list!

Cheers and good luck!
- Kim

Karen's Mom said...

You could pin a house key the waistband of the pink baggy plaid pants, but then you'd have to remember not to wear that outfit through an airport security scanner. : )

tim's wife said...

Yeah, cats don't get too involved with the problems of others. I thought my last dog, who was so attached and protective of all 3 of us, would be the Lassie type if
anything ever happened. Then I fainted 7+ years ago. Made a huge crash in the kitchen as I landed on a wood chair and then took it with me to the tile floor. My 5 year old heard it and kept watching TV and later told me the dog snapped her head up, listened for a few seconds, and then went back to her nap. So much for "man's best friend." I saw your photos on an MM website. Your kid really does earn that WCK name. Adorable!

Anonymous said...

Ahh yes getting locked out is a hoot. About a week after getting Bud we both got locked out of the house in our mainly glass porch and had to hide from neighbours behind the half panel door. We were there an hour and a half wearing just pyjamas that weren't technically a set and bare feet. We had to wait for B's alarm to go off as ringing the door bell and knocking didn't rouse him.

I almost wished we'd got a chihuahua - at least I could have clutched one of those to my chest to cover my modesty and walked carefully to one of our male neighbour's for help! ;D