So, we were finally putting the poles into the ground for the clothesline (it's either been raining or inhospitably cold outside lately) this afternoon. To do so, we needed to mix cement. Mixing cement takes water. The outside spigot leaks like crazy, so we were running the house through a window from the basement sink to the outside. This left the window open a pretty good distance, but it hinges from the bottom, and to get out the window, a cat would have to hop up on the clothes washer, then on a shelf, then hook themself into the V formed by the window, shimmy up into the window, throw themselves out through the window, drop down three feet onto the basement steps, then walk up them.

The cats have had full access to the basement lately, because we've been running the wood stove and need to put vents in the basement door. Until we do that, the door stays open so heat can get upstairs.

You can see where this is going, can't you?

We'd set the first pole, then stopped for lunch, and then were going out to set the second pole. Jeff eyeballed the window and says "They can't get out that, can they?"

"Hrms... well..." I walked in and took a look, came back out, and said, "They could, but they'd have to be pretty enterprising. I don't think any of our cats are that enterprising, but, want me to go in and do a nosecount?"

"Nah, it's fine."

Not three minutes later, I see movement out of the corner of my eye. It's Ellie, padding back up the back walk to the house. Brat. I said "It turns out that one of our cats is just that enterprising." We caught her, tossed her back in the house, and closed the basement door until we were done setting the pole.

Oy.