I'm home all by myself this weekend while my wife collects our granddaughter Allison from Virginia and my son John catches more work up in Roscoe, New York.

I fed the cats a great dinner just before Mountaineer went off but later on I can't find Mister Mittens. She slipped out the front door the other day with my wife and I standing right there and then I think - you took out a bag of garbage to dump in the can and the side door was ajar! Cats are the quietest most stealthy creatures you will ever run into and if they want to go by you without being seen or heard they will study the situation and lie low until they make their move. You will never know that the s.o.b. has gone by you. I figured the momcat was out tonight but I wasn't too concerned - she's street smart and crafty.

But no! I found her later in my wife's closet. That small 1947 closet is jammed up with the wife's Wall Street business suits and God knows what else but that is where Mister Mittens was (left side just to the right of that pink thing hanging).



Back in a corner she has pushed aside shoes and stuff and made a place for herself to flop when she wants to be away from everything. I snagged a photo of her coming out of the closet (I don't think she's gay though).



Tonight she has snagged the couch in the den for sleep before she jumps into my bed and head butts me and paws me (claws in) for her breakfast around 5 a.m. tomorrow morning.