Magical Mystical Mr. Diamond in Feline Misadventures

There’s all the jokes about cats being liquid or just plain defying the laws of physics, and then there is Diamond.

He is a tiny little runt I picked up at Kroger with his littermates. I had no intention of keeping them, but rescue after rescue refused to take them, and their placeholder names stuck (Mouse, Lil Sis, and Diamond , for the patch of tabby on his white chest).

Because I’m at the last house on a dead end road, the cats do get some time outside. I’ve tried building a catio, but lack the funds and brawn to make a truly good one. I’m also in an old trailer that is not exactly structurally sound, and Diamond is the cat that has found every possible way in or out of the house. I thought, until last night, I had found every spot- behind the dryer, under the sinks, and blocked them all off. Both to keep the cats in, but to keep the raccoons out.

Last night, despite the cold, Diamond would. not. come. in. He had Things To Do, Mother, and coming inside was not one of them.

So, I let him. Months ago I would have been up all night trying to get him back in, but a little suffering the mild consequences is fine.

I woke up this morning to Diamond sleeping under the covers next to my chest, like he prefers to do in the winter. No idea where the new hole in whatever cupboard or baseboard he’s managed to manipulate or if he can truly walk through walls, but as long as he doesn’t bring the raccoon along with him, so be it.