Humility.

This evening a cat tricked me into locking myself in a screened porch.

Backstory: I’m apartment-sitting this week, which mainly means feeding a cat and watering some plants. So tonight, I drove to the apartment. I put food on the cat’s plate and water in the cat’s dish. I opened the sliding-glass door to the porch so I could water some potted plants. The cat snuck past me and started chewing on the plants. I grabbed him and threw him back in the apartment, and slid the door most of the way closed so that he couldn’t sneak back on the porch. I watered the plants, and turned back around to see this:

You’ll notice that the security bar, which I had foolishly propped up instead of tilting downward, had slipped down just enough to fulfill its intended purpose: keeping halfwits out. Every time I tried sliding the door, it slid down a little further into an even more secure position. Stupid gravity.

You’ll also notice that the cat kind of playfully taps at the door early in the clip, as if to taunt me. I’m sure he enjoyed the role reversal. He already had food and water, enough to last until his owner came home–what did that smug little furball care if I starved to death on that porch? (Of course I wouldn’t really have starved; I would’ve eaten the plants. That’d show him.)

Fortunately I had my phone, and got someone to come over and let me back into the apartment. Otherwise I’d have had to slash through the screening on the porch, and who knows what that would’ve cost to fix.

It’s probably good that this happened; I was about to start construction on a tower tall enough to reach heaven. That’s on the back burner now.