Pete seems to have had a massive injection of confidence since I showed him the back green the other day. He’s clattering in and out through the catflap time after time just for the hell of it, and quite happily going up and down the stairs. It’s like someone’s flicked a switch. He was in and out and in and out this morning while I was getting ready for work, and when I left the flat he was sitting on the doormat. I shooed him in, locked the door and set off down the stairs, and by the time I’d got to the first half-landing, he was right behind me. He followed me down almost to the ground floor and sat watching me go out with a mixture of outrage and mournfulness on his face.
I quietly fretted all day that he might have escaped out of the front door and I’d come home to a missing cat, or worse, a squashed one. But when I arrived home, he was sitting on the doormat. Once he saw me, he meowed, leaped up, and came to meet me with a mixture of outrage and pleasure on his face. I decided to encourage him to go in through the catflap rather than open the door for him, but it took him a few minutes to manage it. So now I’m worried that he spent the whole day on the doormat waiting for me because he forgot he could get in. On the other hand, at least he was there waiting for me and didn’t do a runner – I think he knows this is home now.