Outside the kitchen is what the humans call the 'utility balcony'. There's a noisy machine where they sometimes put clothes and towels and other strange human paraphernalia. It churns and spins around, and then after a while the female human takes them out again. The things are all wet by this stage, so she hangs them up on some rope things strung across the balcony, until they're dry again.
This is another example of the lack of human intelligence. If they didn't put the things in this machine, they wouldn't get wet. I don't think they realise that it's the machine that makes their clothes so wet; but perhaps their minds aren't developed enough to understand cause and effect.
At the edge of this balcony are metal railings, evidently designed so that the humans don't fall off. It's quite a long way up and they're not good at falling even short distances. Of course, my sister and I can easily get through the railings; sometimes we walk on the little ledges outside. We look down, and at the rooftops nearby, and we keep thinking that maybe - one day - we'll make a bid for our freedom. Not that we want to go very far, but there are so many interesting toys outside, and so many new smells.
There's a litter tray on this balcony, and what they call a 'cat flap' that gives us access from the kitchen. While they went away recently, they blocked up the cat flap and brought the litter tray into the kitchen. We thought this was an excellent idea. Other friendly humans came in each day, two or three times. They gave us our food and water, and cleaned out the litter trays. Our needs were met, and we didn't really miss the humans who belong here, except at night when their bed was cold and unoccupied. It was quite nice when they got back, but then they decided to move the litter tray out to the utility balcony again. I don't know why.
We're trying to train the humans to get up while it's still dark, but they're not very co-operative. We don't mind sleeping for a few hours on their bed, but we get bored around the time the birds start singing outside, so my sister jumps on the humans' feet, while I pat at their heads. The male human used to get up and give us some food when we did that, but now he takes us out of the room and shuts the door. This is not what we intended.
Still, a few days ago I decided to make use of the time to study the escape routes from the balcony while there were no humans around.
I spent a long time weighing up my options. The best place to jump to was a small roof where I've seen other cats, occasionally. I wiggled, and moved, and found the best spot, and nearly kittened out several times. But finally I jumped. My sister wasn't brave enough to join me, but I made a beautiful landing. I explored the small roof - it was quite light by this time.
The female human had got up by this stage, and my sister let her know I was outside. She came and looked at me, then she went to get her camera, and then asked me what I was going to do next.
And there's where I perceived a flaw in my plan.
There was no easy way down.
There was no easy way up.
Of course I didn't let the human know I had miscalculated. I walked around the small roof, sniffing the exciting smells, and trying to see if there was something I had missed.
Then I heard the sound of food being placed into our bowls. I heard my sister starting to eat. The human called to me, and I started feeling very unhappy.
I cried a bit and the human came out again. 'Silly Alex', she said. She tried to persuade me to jump up to the balcony, or down to another bit of roof, but I was feeling scared so I just cried some more.
She went inside, and I felt even worse. Even the humans had abandoned me. Would I be stuck on this little roof forever? How would I eat? How would I reach my litter tray??
The sound of my sister crunching at MY food was too much. I looked up at the balcony again. I didn't think too hard. I concentrated... and I jumped.
I then strolled casually into the kitchen, as if I had not just been through one of the most stressful experiences of my life. The human made quite a fuss of me, and told me, again, that I was silly. But she said it in a nice voice.
I haven't tried it again. I will do, one day, but it wasn't terribly exciting on that little bit of roof, once I had sniffed it all thoroughly. We have all we need in the house, after all. Maybe there's no real reason to go outside....
This is another example of the lack of human intelligence. If they didn't put the things in this machine, they wouldn't get wet. I don't think they realise that it's the machine that makes their clothes so wet; but perhaps their minds aren't developed enough to understand cause and effect.
At the edge of this balcony are metal railings, evidently designed so that the humans don't fall off. It's quite a long way up and they're not good at falling even short distances. Of course, my sister and I can easily get through the railings; sometimes we walk on the little ledges outside. We look down, and at the rooftops nearby, and we keep thinking that maybe - one day - we'll make a bid for our freedom. Not that we want to go very far, but there are so many interesting toys outside, and so many new smells.
There's a litter tray on this balcony, and what they call a 'cat flap' that gives us access from the kitchen. While they went away recently, they blocked up the cat flap and brought the litter tray into the kitchen. We thought this was an excellent idea. Other friendly humans came in each day, two or three times. They gave us our food and water, and cleaned out the litter trays. Our needs were met, and we didn't really miss the humans who belong here, except at night when their bed was cold and unoccupied. It was quite nice when they got back, but then they decided to move the litter tray out to the utility balcony again. I don't know why.
We're trying to train the humans to get up while it's still dark, but they're not very co-operative. We don't mind sleeping for a few hours on their bed, but we get bored around the time the birds start singing outside, so my sister jumps on the humans' feet, while I pat at their heads. The male human used to get up and give us some food when we did that, but now he takes us out of the room and shuts the door. This is not what we intended.
Still, a few days ago I decided to make use of the time to study the escape routes from the balcony while there were no humans around.
I spent a long time weighing up my options. The best place to jump to was a small roof where I've seen other cats, occasionally. I wiggled, and moved, and found the best spot, and nearly kittened out several times. But finally I jumped. My sister wasn't brave enough to join me, but I made a beautiful landing. I explored the small roof - it was quite light by this time.
The female human had got up by this stage, and my sister let her know I was outside. She came and looked at me, then she went to get her camera, and then asked me what I was going to do next.
And there's where I perceived a flaw in my plan.
There was no easy way down.
There was no easy way up.
Of course I didn't let the human know I had miscalculated. I walked around the small roof, sniffing the exciting smells, and trying to see if there was something I had missed.
Then I heard the sound of food being placed into our bowls. I heard my sister starting to eat. The human called to me, and I started feeling very unhappy.
I cried a bit and the human came out again. 'Silly Alex', she said. She tried to persuade me to jump up to the balcony, or down to another bit of roof, but I was feeling scared so I just cried some more.
She went inside, and I felt even worse. Even the humans had abandoned me. Would I be stuck on this little roof forever? How would I eat? How would I reach my litter tray??
The sound of my sister crunching at MY food was too much. I looked up at the balcony again. I didn't think too hard. I concentrated... and I jumped.
I then strolled casually into the kitchen, as if I had not just been through one of the most stressful experiences of my life. The human made quite a fuss of me, and told me, again, that I was silly. But she said it in a nice voice.
I haven't tried it again. I will do, one day, but it wasn't terribly exciting on that little bit of roof, once I had sniffed it all thoroughly. We have all we need in the house, after all. Maybe there's no real reason to go outside....
