Our cats are strictly indoor cats for several reasons. Partly because despite them being the sookiest cats in the universe, I don’t want them wreaking havoc amongst the bird/lizard/small mammal population around the house (which is quite a wide and varied population, given that we live in the middle of the bush). Partly because I don’t want them wandering into other people’s properties because god, it used to drive me crazy in suburbia when people’s beloved pets (supposedly) would wander through my yard and shit in my pot plants. Partly because I would worry about them outside on their own (because there might be people like me out there who would plot to poison them. Not that I’ve actually poisoned anyone’s cat. But I’ve thought about it.)
So, between the walls of the house is their familiar world, and they sit at the doors and watch the outside goings on. Sometimes we put their harnesses on and take them outside on a lead, which does look utterly ridiculous. I have discovered (in the most unsurprising discovery of all time) that you can’t walk a cat like you can a dog – the cats just wander about on the ends of the leads, tugging you where they want to go. They do enjoy having the grass under their paws and spend a great deal of time sniffing intently at things. A few weeks ago Horace got startled by a noise, broke out of his harness and raced away. I panicked for a moment, but then realised he was heading back to the house, where he pawed at the door trying to get away from the unpredictable outside. He pretends to look like a minature lion, but really he prefers to spend his afternoons napping inside the linen closet.