I thought we'd made some progress the other day. Yesterday Bessie Anne was back on duty as hall monitor, giving short woof commands to the cats if they tried to venture out of the bedroom. I really need to teach Ralph and Celeste the rules to "Mother, May I?" Perhaps if the cats knew the rules or the password, they'd have a better chance at freedom. Bessie might let them take three giant steps. Ralph is getting wily, keeping watch to see if Bess is asleep in her chair or by my feet. I caught glimpses of him as he raced past the front door into the kitchen and back. Celeste seems a little more laid back. She only comes out of the bat cave when I'm in the bathroom.
Isolation is definitely getting to Ralph. He's got a wild hair this morning and has made several laps around the computer and has been playing a thundering game of hockey with the ducky in the bathtub again. With Bessie under the desk, he goes down the hall to the front bathroom to open the cupboard door and let it bang shut. On the bed, he pounces and attacks the flowers on the comforter. We'll all be very glad when the warden gives him a reprieve.
I had one of those middle-of-the-night epiphanies. Cleaning the litter box umpteen times a day is resulting in pounds of used litter. I'd been worried that Trash Guy would get a hernia while emptying my barrel, but what else could I do. I awoke with the answer right there in front of me (I don't know what others dream about). There is a squirrel hole in a portion of the driveway and it goes down probably eight feet (that squirrel either comes from or is going to China) and is close to eight inches across. Ta da! I shall dump the used litter down the squirrel hole, and when that hole is filled, I'll find another one, and another one, ad infinitum. Odds are I will not run out of either resource. Trash Guy will never know that he owes me a debt of gratitude. Note to self: find out whether children in China are told if they dig all the way through, they'll end up in America.