Everybody say hi to Fred ...

Monstee said: "We am going to tell that you letting cat into house!"

Yeah, okay, it happened. But not on purpose — I swear. When I walked down the driveway to pick up the mail after getting home from work today, Fred came bounding down the street, into the garage and ...

... into the house.

At this point, I found out that:

(1.) Fred hates Science Diet. (So much for Paul's theory that anything with Science in its name is, by nature, a superior product.)

(2.) Fred loves phone cords, comfy piles of clothes, my teddy bear, and gnawing on my fingers.

(3.) Fred is a Frederica. Kind of funny, actually, because Frederica is Germanic for "peaceful ruler," and within five minutes, it was clear that this was her house and that my duty was to serve as tour guide and impromptu scratching post. (No matter that I was wearing my favorite jeans, either.)

Anyway, what started out as "Ha ha, a cat followed me into the house and my hubby doesn't know about it," soon turned into "Oh crap, a cat followed me into the house and I can't get rid of her."

I broke down and called Paul. "Um, sweetie, we have a situation," I said. "Fred is laying in your duffel bag. She won't leave." To his credit, he didn't freak out. He told let her follow me outside, at which point I could run into the house and shut the door. I'd already tried that. It didn't work.

Finally, I managed to lure her outside with a pouch of Whisker Lickins, then took the opportunity to press the garage door button. Now our garage door sounds something like a cross between a monster truck and a Yeti. So predictably, as soon as she heard it, she started running ...

... which tripped the sensor, sending the garage door back up, leaving me at Square One. So I did the only sensible thing I could think of. I put the garage door up a few inches so she could come and go as she pleases.

I haven't sneezed once. Yet. (So there, Paul.)

Next choice from Monstee's Home Alone Suggestion Guide: yoga. Maybe even adult yoga.

But I'll wait until Carrie gets here Saturday to make an appointment at the local dairy, and I'm quite sure she'd be much better suited for butcher-flirting, too.