I live with two cats that have recently, unbeknownst to me, gotten together and voted on a major issue. The polls are closed, the results are in, and they have decided that closed doors now offend them.

Sure, we all know that cats are curious, but mine are getting to the point where curiosity has taken a back seat to being antisocial and downright rude. They play the common cat games like the “Wake Up” competition, where as I’m peacefully asleep they take turns jumping high into the air and landing on my face to see who can wake me up so I will feed them. They also enjoy the game where they lay flat on their backs and put their bellies into the air and each time I make an attempt to pat their soft underside, they dig their claws into my arm and attempt to separate the flesh from the bone. I have affectionately come to refer to this one as the “Furry Bear Trap” game. They also hold the famous “Giant Killer” contest daily where as I’m walking anywhere around my apartment they scamper in front of my legs causing me to fall and face plant into whatever furniture is closest. They especially like to play this game when I’m carrying piping hot coffee.

A few days ago the cats adopted a new game without telling me. I like to think that in their minds they’re going to call it the “How Dare You Close the Door” game.

Each morning as I lock myself away in the bathroom and prepare for the workday ahead I will try to round them up and stick them inside with me so everyone is happy. However, if they’re sleeping, or unable to be located, it’s not going to stop me from getting to work on time. The other day I found myself in the shower, fighting to stay awake, when out of nowhere something hit the closed door with power reminiscent of an atomic bomb. I paused, not quite sure what had happened and stood perplexed as soap trickled into my eyes. Assuming that I had imagined the noise in my pre-coffee mental state, I continued with the shower when moments later there was another slam on the door, louder than the first. At this point I told myself that the only logical explanation was that someone had broken into my apartment and was now shooting cannon balls at the bathroom door. Before I had time to take any type of safety precautions, such as grabbing a worn out, rusty razor, there was another extremely loud bang on the door and it came flying open, slamming against the wall. I threw open the shower curtain and grabbed a shampoo bottle for self-defense. I was greeted not by a burglar or hooligan, but by the adorable meows of two felines.

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