I'm being blackmailed.
It's almost to the point of a felony, for leaving my own home requires an act of bribery.
And it's at the hands, or should I say paws, of a 10-month old kitten.
You know that old song and saying, Papa was a rolling stone?! Well, it applies to male cats way more than male humans. A male cat, the second they find out there is more to life than just your little apartment, right beyond the front door, they want, they need, to escape. They don't know why, of course, for the very nature of evolution is tricky and mysterious. It is why there are, sadly, so many strays. And at 10-months young, this cat of mine is at his prime. He'll never understand why he has this addictive urge to go outside, but simply put, it's because it's in his evolutionary interest to bang every single little hot piece of feline ass he comes across. And being outside this boring apartment of mine, well, the odds of getting lucky dramatically increase.
And it's somewhat my fault, I suppose. For I allow him to accompany me to the trash chute room. He lives for this 2 minute excursion.
The price I pay though, for letting him out every now and then, is the fact that he expects it. Every time I leave for work, or for the bar, or for the bar, I'm required to lay out four or five treats on the counter. This gives me approximately 13 seconds to distract him, as I dip out.
Real text convo between myself and my neighbor last week...
Jim: hey man, are you home?
Me: No, why
Jim: because I just saw a cat that looked like Brooklyn when I got off the elevator, he ran towards your door and I heard it slam then no cat when I turned the corner
So, you see, this cat of mine, this intelligent little beast, has been simply letting himself out, and chillin in the hallway, unsupervised and uninvited, while I'm away, for Lord knows how long.
Video to follow.