Twenty minutes later, there arose quite a clatter - a prolonged, suspicious rustling noise coming from the entry. Upon investigation, I found this:
At first, I thought she was just playing with a zipper or something. Yeah. No. So I scooped her up and hauled her (and the dripping wet jacket) off to the couch to investigate. She got herself jammed but good into that sleeve. While she squawked and bit at me (because clearly this was my fault), I tried to jam her furry little body back into the sleeve. No dice. I finally managed to pull enough of the end of the sleeve loose enough to get to the snap that holds the end shut around my wrist (or the Peanut's middle). Once I had the end loosened, I held up the sleeve and shook it gently and the Peanut slithered free.
It's been a while since she pulled something this boneheaded, but this is the cat that, as a kitten, spent some quality time at the vet's because she ate my couch. And rocks. Several ink pens. Assorted leaves, twigs, bugs and other outside detris. Any flower she could get her teeth into. Several toilet paper rolls of toilet paper. Paper towels. A paper clip.
She falls down the stairs on a fairly regular basis 'cause she gets to the landing, turns the corner, catches sight of her tail, freaks out over that thing following her down the stairs and attacks it, then rolls down the rest of the staircase.
And so on. She's very affectionate, but she's never going to be one of the great thinkers of the cat world.
