another strike

Remember oh, when was it, over a year ago when I wrote about the offing of Mr M in the bedroom by the hero Harrison?  Well, the mystery continues.  Though this time, the victim was Ms Sparrow in the kitchen.  So perhaps our dear Harrison was more of a villain than hero this time around.  Let's call him our anti-hero.  You can't help but root for him though his heroic qualities are, shall we say, lacking. 

No photos in order not to offend any delicate sensibilities. 

Early in the afternoon yesterday I was working in the attic and heard Harrison meowing meowing meowing downstairs.  Quite loudly.  I decided to ignore him. 

Later, rushing around to get together all the t-ball equipment to drop off at practice, while simultaneously gathering all the ballet accoutrements together because we were due at dress rehearsal at the same time as practice, I passed by our anti-hero who was lounging in the middle of the kitchen (underfoot at precisely the wrong time is one of his specialities).  When suddenly, in my frenzy, what was beside Harrison clicked into my consciousness - a dear sweet Ms Sparrow casually discarded.  Yikes! 

I called Gee into the kitchen so we could compare notes.  Andrew was napping, so Gee had been doing other things in the house.  She told me she had heard Harrison, and had passed by the kitchen and noticed the throw rug was all tangled, and she thought he had been mock fighting with it and so straightened it out.

Here's the thing - neither of us has any recollection of Harrison having escaped the house and ventured outside during the day.  Our anti-hero has been on a tear lately, sneaking outside with his battle cry of "you shall not contain me!" despite our best efforts to continue his captivity in lockdown.  We're actually attempting to reach a civil compromise by extending his range onto our back patio, but his escape routes know no end.  He was out quite a bit the day before, so had poor Ms S been trapped in our house for a day? 

We'll never know.