Have I got a story for you.

A few weeks ago, something ridiculous happened. The title of this post is a bit of a spoiler. One of our two cats got stuck in the wall. That’s right. You heard me.

We’ve got sliding front doors leading into our bedroom. We normally keep them open, but sometimes the cats go a little too crazy during Abhi’s nap times. So I closed them in. One of the doors comes out a little too far, leaving a space in the wall. We’ve lived here nearly three years and nothing has come of that. But Bart decided to get curious. And explore. I didn’t even notice he was gone until I realized that I hadn’t seen him anywhere in hours, and Sando kept going to that door and sniffing about.

Then I started hearing them: the pathetic, miserable meows. And it was clear that Bart had access to the entire apartment. When I was washing dishes, I could hear his woe in the kitchen. When I was nursing Abhi to bed, I could hear his distress from the closet. He would follow us around, pleading with us to get him out. I called my husband when I realized what had happened and he immediately came home from work.

Step one: confirm that the cat was in the wall.

Step two: figure out what the fuck to do next. So we called the landlord, who said he would send a handyman the next morning to cut a hole in the wall, so Bart could get out.

Step three: watch the handyman cut a hole in the wall and wait and hope that Bart would jump out.

Step four: capture his daring escape on film.

You’re welcome.