Don't let the cat out of the house

People think I am strange because I take my two Siamese cats, Sasha and Anya, for walks in the park.

They wonder, why not just let the cat explore the world on its own?

It's a cat. It doesn't belong on a leash.

Cats are not to be degraded to the common house pup.

Last week I almost bought into the theory. Almost.

Theoretically, a feline is a solo hunter of a curious nature, eager to discover the wild frontier. Theoretically, anyway.

I let my cats outside on their own for just two days last week, and the result was simply too much drama for my simple lifestyle.

Day 1

I open the side door. Anya and Sasha enjoy their time outdoors, and then Anya settles outside next to the door. Suddenly, she is alert. Thinking she is watching Sasha, I peek my head around the corner. Indeed, she is watching Sasha, but Sasha is not alone. Sasha is face-to-face with a behemoth, gargantuan, monstrous, Herculean - and every other adjective for giant - raccoon.

They are staring at one another, ready to face off.

I yell for my tiny 7-month-old feline pal to come to me, but he is too intent on killing the creature 10 times his size. My motherly instincts kick in, and instead I yell at the raccoon,"Hey!"

It takes off toward the back of the house, and so does Sasha.

Then, Anya takes after both of them. I run after all three, panicked. Behind my house there is a swampy area, and I fear my poor kitty will chase the raccoon into the swamp, where he will summarily be eaten.

Instead, they run up a tree. I pry Sasha from the tree, pick up Anya, and bring them back to the house, determined they will never be outside alone again.

Intermission

My intentions were good, but soon the sunny day called to my kitties, and my motherly instincts melted away into sympathy at the dismal plight of being stuck indoors.

Day 2

The two kitties play outside, and soon it is time to come in. Sasha is enticed by the smell of canned fishy food, but Anya knows the food is a trick. She will not come into the house.

I am leaving for a meeting, and on the verge of running late. So I am forced to leave her outdoors until after dark.

When I return home, I cannot find her anywhere. I am calling to her from the front, side and back of the property, with no luck.

Suddenly, I spot her. As I suspected, she wants to come inside. I pick her up and notice my arm is wet. When I set her down I am compelled to sniff my arm, curious about what this hygienic invasion could be. My worst fear: Urine. My worser than worst fear: Half of Anya's body is covered in pee. Something peed on her, and she just sat there and took it.

The worst fear of all: I would have to give her a bath.

So, in conclusion: To keep the peash, put your cat on a leash.

Chrystal Doucette is the education reporter for the Columbia Basin Herald, and the avid lover of her attack kittens.