At my old house, my scaredy-cat Nissa used to root herself under my bed. Periodically, I would have to get under there and do a thorough cleaning, but that meant dismantling the bed (uplifting the mattress and box spring, etc.) to get to her shedded-fur nest in the very center where the vacuum wouldn’t reach. Needless to say, that endeavor usually took place when I needed to gather her up for a vet appointment, since the high level of activity super-stressed her out, and it was easier to deal with that all at once.

When I moved in to my new house over three years ago, I decided that I didn’t want to have to chase her out from under a bed anymore, so here, Nissa has her own bedroom (which she used to share with her two brothers, who are now departed). I have a pet gate that I keep in that room’s doorway to facilitate a routine of less stress-induced capturing for medicines and vet appointments, etc. Nissa loves sitting in the window where she can watch the birds at tree top level, etc. She has diabetes and kidney issues and, like the rest of us, she’s not getting any younger, so the room is ideal for her. After administering her morning food and healthcare, I will open the gate for her to have free reign of the house–everywhere except for the guest bedroom and my own bedroom–until it’s time for dinner and evening medications. It’s a good routine, usually…

SCENE: About mid-morning today, I went into the master bathroom. When I came out, this was my succession of thoughts:

1. Oh, no! The master bedroom door is open.
2. Oh, no! I think Nissa’s gate is open.
3. Maybe she is downstairs and hasn’t even noticed.
4. Let me shut the door real quick.
5. [Turn my head to the right] Oh, no! There she is on the floor at the head of the bed with her little furry body aimed toward her favorite under-bed access point!
6. Oh, no! She remembers she loves it under there!
7. I’m too late!
8. What to do!?!
9. How do I get her not to go underneath?

[I slowly lower to the floor in front of the open doorway and tap the ground affecting a calm voice] “Uh…Hi, Nissa! What ya doin’?”

Scaredy-cat Nissa doesn’t know what to make of the situation and she skulks past me and out into the hallway. Crisis averted. Stress for both of us averted.

Poor little girl. Poor Nissa…old crafty, curious cutey-cat that she is.