I almost made it

Freedom is such a movable target. I have the freedom to wander around the house while the lackey is home – except for Nan and Pop’s bedroom. I have the freedom of the backyard – except for the gated off area around the car and the bins. I have the freedom to eat what I want when I want – provided the lackey learns my tastes. I am free to sleep any time I want – except for when the lackey wants to go to work and I have to move from the big bed to my mat. I can get a scratch whenever the lackey is around – except when she’s sleeping or eating or typing or in the small room next to the sink.

Yesterday, I thought I had the freedom to go over and visit the yummy, err, nice cats across the road. I was wrong in this as well as I quickly found a huge except clause. The lackey and Nanna were hosing down the plants in the front garden and the lackey had not quite closed the outer gate due to the hose running out of it. Nanna was changing spray thingies and doing stuff next to the fence and I sat and watched. And waited. Watched and waited. Then Nanna decided to go out to check on the lackey and she thought I was far enough away that she could open the gate wide and take her time getting through it. HA! Wrong! I was out and into the road before they knew what hit them. They both shouted at me but I didn’t care, there were cats to be found. I made it over into the yard which had quite conveniently left both big roller gates all the way open and I could bolt in past their cars and into the cat playground. Where were they? I could hear the lackey pounding closer and her tone was not very nice at all so I ignored her completely. I got past the bird cage, past the little pond and around the side of the house and the lackey thought she had me cornered in a one way out garden path. The neighbour lady chatted to the lackey and while her attention was diverted I shot past her and into their backyard proper. Where were they? The neighbour lady and the lackey then teamed up to corner me and I could tell the cats were off somewhere else so I plopped down on the grass and waited for the hand on my collar to drag me home. The neighbour lady was not upset with me – I guess because her cats were not home. The lackey was boiling mad at this point and I had just started telling her off for not letting me wander free in the street when Nanna swooped in and picked me up. Picked. Me. Up. Now how was I meant to argue with that? She’s old, my toenails are nice and strong, I would have hurt her, so I licked her face like it was all a big joke and let her take me home.

To say that the lackey was mad would be like saying cats are only mildly irritating. I tried to read her mind but it was in a mess trying to decide whether to yell at me or at Nanna or just cry or cuddle me because I was safe. I was all prepared to wash her face if she picked the last one when she tromped inside, told Pop to take me for a walk and poured a drink of that fizzy stuff she likes.

So then I want for a half walk with Pop. He’s slower than the lackey and we don’t go as far but I’m sort of free for a little bit and he lets me pick where we go instead of the lackey’s way of making me walk like a lady and play nice.

So freedom is a flighty thing. You can have it for minutes or moments or hours. It all depends on whether or not what you need to be free fits inside the limits that are placed around you.