The Saturday that we moved, Rogue went missing. That night there was a huge storm. Our poor Rogue was left behind with strangers in her house and two big dogs in her yard and then the big storm.
By the next week Tuesday Michael and Jess came up with a plan and returned to the house with a bowl of food. They spotted her quickly so Rogue was returned home safely after her traumatic experience.
I know what you are all thinking now, “Awwh sweet, happy ending.”
This was when our trauma started. You see Rogue has gone Cuckoo.
From the first night she went around crying hysterically. Jess chucked her out of her room after she knocked numerous things off Jess’ shelves.
Rogue had somehow on her adventures learned a new trick.
She jumps up on doors, grips the handle pulls it down and opens the door.
When I tell this to friends and family they get it all wrong and say:
“That is so cool, a cat that opens doors”
WRONG, WRONG, WRONG
If it was not for the fortunate fact that all the doors in our new home have keys I would not get any sleep.
After her opening my bedroom door and then coming to stand on top of my head to cry, I learned to lock my bedroom door.
That did not really help because she kept trying to open my door and cried like a demented Siren outside my door.
So I took her to the lounge opened a window and locked the lounge door.
For the first week after Rogue’s return we hardly had any sleep. She has now changed her modus operandi. She comes home once every three or four days in the evening, eats herself silly, keeps us out of sleep and then disappears. She is spayed so what she is doing on her journeys is a mystery to me.