We've moved into a new house with a front door that opens onto a busy residential street. And the youngest of the cats doesn't have any fear of the front door. The front door opens and she races across the room bounding up across the leather chair to make a bid for FREEDOM! Or what she sees as freedom. It's the out of doors. It's the open air. It must be fun because life is an adventure. Or so she believes. She is a living representation of the old adage "curiosity killed the cat." And I aim to not let that happen. That's why when the nice cable repairman tried to get in the house this morning, and she tried to get out...I smashed him in the door like a bug. It was horrible. I did it twice. The first time, I think he only managed to get his face and part of one arm through the door before I slammed it shut. The second time, he got a foot and part of his toolkit before I squashed the door right in his face. While I was holding the door shut, I was swinging wildly in an attempt to grab the cat who was leaping for the open door. I kept apologizing. And so did he. He said it was ok. He understood. At least I think he did. That was his tone. He had a very thick Asian accent and I really only understood every third word he spoke, but he seemed okay with being smooshed. I got the idea that this had happened to him once or twice before. And once we corralled the cat, he came in and explained what the problem was with our service. He was nice. One of the good guys. Who I had smashed like a bug in our front door. Twice. Before nine o'clock in the morning. When I got to work this morning I called the vet and scheduled Roxy to be microchipped. I don't know what else to do. The HMA thinks it's drastic, but if she gets out...and we couldn't find her. I would be devastated. She's naughty, but we love her.