[QUOTE=VarlosZ]
A friend of my step-dad’s stayed with us for a couple of weeks when he was between apartments and brought his cats. One of whom, Flip, was exceptionally dumb. He had a compulsion to jump up into very high spaces he couldn’t visually inspect, often with predictable results. For instance, he tried jumping to the top shelf of the linen closet (which was, of course, occupied); his return to earth was less than graceful.
Worse: there was a rectangular hole, about 1 square foot, in one of our walls up near the ceiling; it was left over from when the building had to fix a pipe (or something) behind said wall. I’d noticed Flip staring at that hole, but it never occurred to me he would decide to explore it. Until he went missing. Getting him out was quite an ordeal (in no small part because he would hide whenever we tried to rescue him), and he was lucky that the apartment’s floor extended to the interior wall space.
We had cats of our own in the apartment, and they were of course quite nasty and territorial towards Flip. He never paid them any mind, though, just went about his business. At first we thought he was a really cool customer. Now, however, we firmly believe that he was just too stupid to realize he was being threatened.
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I’ve got the disappearing cat story beat. I have a black and white cat, appropriately named Tuxedo. He did not take it well when I moved from Chicago to NC, and for the first few months the only way I knew he was in the apartment was because his food bowl was being emptied and his litter box was being filled. When I moved again to a townhouse this July I wasn’t surprised when he did his vanishing act again. This time, however, there were two kittens in the household, so I had no way of knowing that they were the only ones eating the food I put out. I just assumed that he was coming out at night and eating, as he had before.
Then one day I was in the kitchen and heard a plaintive “meow”. Looking around, I saw a nose sticking out under the cabinet next to the stove. There was an opening, maybe four inches square, in the base of the cabinet, and Tuxedo had crawled in there to hide. I put some food in a bowl and put it right in front of the opening, and he started eating. I tried to lure him out by moving the bowl away, but he was having none of it, and of course there was no way I could grab him and pull him out, because he would just retreat back out of reach. I was a little concerned, and decided to try an experiment. I left a bowl of food in the middle of the kitchen floor before I went to bed that night, and kept the kittens in the bedroom with me.
As I suspected, the next morning the food had not been touched. Apparently he had managed to squeeze through the opening, but then couldn’t get out. I ended up having to pull the stove out to get him out (and he promptly ran off to hide under the bed). I securely taped some heavy cardboard over the opening to keep him from going back in there.