The cat has discovered how to unlock the cat flap. She has a great sense of triumph but no sense of direction. The last three nights of sleep have involved a mix of the following:
1) Cat leaping through flap. Going on tiny voyage of discovery. Coming back through. Waking me up to tell me what fun that was.
2) Waking up shivering to realise the cat is sat half through the flap, staring out into the night while all the hot air in the flat gently ruffles her fur as it whistles past.
3) Getting out of bed at Farming Today-o-clock to try and track down the distant cries for help. She's always invariably sat outside the flat downstairs outraged that I've moved.
There is a new joy to having a cat made mostly out of vast amounts of fur. On patrol this morning, someone opened a metal door next to her. All her fur stood on end. And it's a lot of fur.
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