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Friday, 28 May 2010

World's Greatest Escape Artist

By Ralph Lymburner

History tells us that the greatest escape artist ever was a man named Harry Houdini. That may have been true at the time but I have discovered the greatest escape artist of ALL TIME, man or beast. Her name is Princess Sasha and she is an eight-month old Russian Blue kitten who weighs six pounds.

I obtained Sasha from the Halifax Humane Society about two months ago as a companion for my other cat, Queen Isis. Sasha had been found wandering around on an island and finally caught. Nobody knows how she got there.

The companion part of Sasha worked great as she and Isis often wrestle, chase each other around the house, have stare downs and end up washing each other.

Early in her stay, I had suspicions about Sasha’s behavior. The first week she got herself trapped in a drawer which closed while she was in it. I thought she was lost until eight hours later we heard a soft meowing from a corner. Upon investigation in the area, we opened the drawer and found her laying on a hair dryer.

Another time, when entering my house, I thought I saw a blur out of the corner of my eye. A few hours later on my way to run an errand, I was shocked to see Sasha in the garden. After 30 minutes of pleading she ran under the car in the driveway. I got a long pole and swept her like a hockey puck toward the patio door and immediately slammed it shut.

One week later, in spite of my diligence and unbeknownst to me, Sasha got out again. Isis kept looking out of the screen door and then to me. Being curious, I had to check to see what she was looking at. To my utter amazement there was Sasha sitting by the door with a lizard in her mouth. When I opened the door she dashed in and dropped her catch in the living room.

My job was to catch this lizard trying to escape with its life. I covered it with a plastic bowl and slid a magazine under it and freed this creature.

Just a few days later, I became suspicious when I didn’t see Sasha for awhile. Looking around her usual resting spots I glanced at Isis and asked where her running mate was. She looked longingly at me and slowly got up and walked into the spare bedroom.

For some insane reason, I followed and noticed her sitting at the closet door. Muttering to myself, “this can’t be happening,” I opened the closet door and you can guess who looked up at me and casually walked out. Are my cats psychic? Who knows.

Again, she miraculously found a way to escape in spite of double guards in the towers and gators in the moat. For days I tried to figure how she got out until I actually saw how she was able to accomplish this.

She sat on a ledge by the door which has a levered handle. She was able to put weight on the lever to push it down and the door opened. I now turn the handle lock every time I come in.

I have managed to survive several attempted escapes. I must check out all avenues when leaving or entering my home. I check which door she is near and leave or enter elsewhere.

I am master. She pet. She shall not win.

So, Mr. Houdini, you have been surpassed as the all-time escape artist.

NO, you can’t have them. They are two of the three precious things in my life.

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