Entry the fifth: In which I get help with the laundry

As most people who live with cats know, cats like to be in things. Mirabelle, who is relatively normal, likes to be in baskets (wicker and laundry), or boxes (shoe, packing, and already-filled-with-seemingly-no-room-for-a-cat-until-Mirabelle-finds--extra-space-I-did-not-know-was-there), or beds.

Sylvie, on the other hand, ends up in surprising places: The pantry that we're positive we only had open for 1.4 seconds and we would have noticed if a cat had jumped in it; the wardrobe; the bathtub (to be fair, both cats like the tub (unless the shower is on, and then it's Evil)); or (most annoying) the fridge.

I don't actually want a cat in the refrigerator with my food, thank you very much, so the last time she took the opportunity to jump onto the bottom shelf when the door was open, I closed the door with her inside. "This will show her," I foolishly thought, "and she'll be cold and sad when I relent and let her out." Wrong. I waited a minute and then opened the door... and Sylvie used the extra space to climb to a higher shelf.

(Mirabelle is the terrifying creature in the top picture; Sylvie is the enigmatic presence in the bottom picture. The irony is that Mirabelle is a sweetie and Sylvie is the least inscrutable cat I have ever known.)