California is hot. Particularly in the San Fernando Valley, where I reside.
It has been mild recently, but will not stay that way for long. As a result, it's important that I keep my windows open, so that the pleasant scent of the germaniums outside the window will fill my room, rather than the close scent of dirty laundry and sleeping mammal.
Unfortunately, my cat has learned a new trick. She demonstrated it to me the other night, when I was ready to drop off, and reading the last chapter of "The Commodore" by Patrick O'Brien, and basically comfortable and cozy-dozy. She crept up to the windowsill, pushed out the screen, and hopped out onto the front porch. My cat is not an outdoor cat, so this meant I had to scramble to get a hold of her before she took off. I considered slithering out of the window after her, but remembered my dignity at least that much.
I dashed outside, worried that she'd be long gone. But no, she was sitting directly in front of the door. "Look what I can do!" She meowed, and trotted back inside.
So, I put the screen back in place and narrowed the window's opening to a very slender gap. Barely enough for air. I settled back in, pushed the pillows around, and got back into a good position for reading myself to sleep. The cat compressed herself down to a nearly flat thing, squirreled under the window, pushed the screen out and hopped out onto the front porch.
I ran out, yet again. And yet again she was waiting for me on the front porch. "Look what I can do!" she meowed.
I resisted the urge to punt. This time I just closed the window.
Obviously, I have to get locking screens.