Hmm. Emma got locked out in the garage Monday night after I got the car back. I was wondering where she was after dinner and her insulin shot, but figured she was snoozing on the back of the sofa. Later that evening, snuggling into bed, I called her name a few times. No cat. She normally comes when called and hops up on the bed. Again, I figured she was sleeping off dinner, and I'd find her on top of me in the morning when the alarm went off. No cat. Went down and shook the food, calling her name. Surely that would arouse her. No dice. Maybe she was locked in the basement. She loves forbidden territory. Nope. Once again, I called her name, and heard some muffled meowing. Aha--the garage! Bingo.

Boy was she perturbed when I let her inside the house! "How could you do that to me, mommy? It was chilly out there. Can't you feel how cold my fur is?" Hopefully, she'll never pull a stunt like that again, but she's not the sharpest tool in the shed.

I didn't really notice anything after that, driving to the train station. It was mostly cloudy, so there really wasn't any sun glare. But this morning, there was sun glare galore. Sure enough, there were kitty paw prints all over my windshield. She'd probably walked all over the hood and roof as well. I had to laugh. Even when your pet is rather on the dumb side, you've got to love him or her. She's my third cat, and my previous two blew her away on the Kitty IQ scale. For a 16-year-old fart, she's pretty darn active, and very sweet, but what an idiot!