So. I’m not stupid. I didn’t leave windows open around my foster kitty in case he decided to return to the wild. Of course, I soon discovered that having a cat in an enclosed space can get a bit whiffy, particularly if they accidentally missed their litter tray one time (and felt really guilty about it afterwards, if you can read guilt into a cat’s face).
So I did leave my lounge window open one inch last night (after ascertaining, using a scientific process, that Mal couldn’t have squeezed through the gap in a million years because he had a very large head). Then I tied the window handle to my radiator, tested its strength and went to bed safe in the knowledge that, barring the cat untying the string, the window wouldn’t open.
And guess what?
The cat untied the string.
I didn’t see any opposable thumbs, but apparently they were there.
There was a 30ft drop outside the window, but a roof off to one side which he obviously managed to land on.
I won’t be seeing Thomas O’Malley, or his thumbs, ever again.