No, not Lucy Lawless. Do you really think I'd be sitting here writing about it if Lucy Lawless was on my roof?

No, I think not.

Lucy is on my list. You know, that list.

Lucy Lawless, Angelina Jolie, Sigourney Weaver (bite me), Milla Jovovich and Salma Hayek.

I'm not sure who is on R's list, but I think Brad Pitt and Johnny Depp are on there. Not sure who else. I'll ask her, ok? Now get off my back, you're distracting me...

So Xena (not the warrior princess, our cat) is on the roof, and its my fault.

The problem stems from the front door.

We have two keys, and three people in the house.

We have tried to get other keys cut, but they simply don't work.

At one time we did have a third working key, but since it was given to a 16 year old, it of course got lost.

Enter the garage door opener.

Now I've had garage door openers before. They are usually a bit like TV remote controls with low batteries, in that you have to get so close to the damn sensor, you might as well throw the remote away and change the channel yourself. Or open the damn garage door.

Not so with the one we have for this house.

I am quite convinced that if I took it with me on a business trip, on the return I could press it from my seat and open the garage door while were still at the outer marker. It's that damn sensitive.

I didn't know this when we gave it to J. to use. Its larger than a key and therefore harder to lose. We also have a spare.

The only problem with him going in through the garage is that the door from the garage to the kitchen has a cat flap, so there is the chance that the cats could get outside while the door is open. However, if they're in the garage when the door opens, the sound usually scares the crap out of them, and they all go charging through the cat door and hide under the bed.

End of problem.

Or so I thought.

The first time I realized we might have a problem was a couple of weeks ago, shortly after I gave the remote to J.

Whilst in the kitchen making coffee, I hear the garage door start to open, then close. Open, then close.

I walk into the garage, and the door is going up and down like a whore's drawers!

I thought the thing was possessed, I kid you not.

After a couple of seconds of this, it occurs to me that maybe the remote is being pushed somewhere, so I walk into the living room, to find J. at his computer with his headphones on, singing Monty Python and clicking the remote for emphasis:

Every sperm is sacred - click!

Every sperm is great - click-click!

If a sperm is wasted, - click!

God get's quite Iraaaate- click-click-click!

"JJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJ!!!!!!!"
"What?"
"You are setting off the garage door. Put the remote down."
"Really? wow it must be sensitive!"
"Indeed..."

Ok, so now he knows not to do that.

Another week goes by, I'm in the kitchen again, and the door opens and stays open.

I walk into the living room, J. is sitting in his chair watching TV, having just put South Park in the DVD player.

Hmmmm.

"Is the remote in your pocket?"

fumbling

"Yeah"

"Take it out, its opening the garage door again"
"Wow, it must be..."
"Sensitive...yes..I know..."

This happens on a couple more occasions, each time we have the same conversation.

Last night, just as I'm putting the house to bed, I put food in the cat's bowl (which is also in the garage) and notice that the door is open. Again.

Xena and Bella are in the garage, clearly returning from some kind of unspeakable expedition, because they look sheepish and run in the house.

Delilah is nowhere to be found.

Now Delilah is the youngest, and shouldn't really be allowed out on her own.

So we try calling, looking for here, all the usual stuff, then finally say 'screw it' and prep for bed.

I decide to make one last check outside the front door.

As I open it, Xena goes tearing outside.

"Get back in here you bloody cat!"

She ignores me, and we decide that on balance, its probably a good thing she is out there, since she can find Delilah, bring her home, and they can both wait outside the front door 'til morning. Xena gets out quite often and we know her routine.

I do decide, however to open up the little slidy flap by the window air conditioning unit in the garage.

We found that the cats had been using that to get in and out, so we figured that maybe if it was open, they'd use it go get back in.

Cigarette,Mouthwash,toothpaste, dressing gown.

Just about to get in to bed I decide to take one more look outside.

While I'm out the front I hear

"HONEY!!!! Um...C'MERE"

I go back in.
"What's up"
"Well, there's Delilah, there's Bella..."
"Xena?"
"No, but they do seem to have brought a friend..."

A mouse. Quite a large one. Nearly half the size of a gerbil. Kind of pretty with grey and white fur. It would have been lovely if it didn't appear to be having some kind of cat induced seizure.

"Crap. Can you get my gloves please?"

While R. is getting my gloves, I do my best to keep Delilah and Bella away from their new 'friend', or as they like to call him 'supper'.

Gloves on, I finally grab the mouse. R. opens the front door, and I walk him over to the neighbor's yard, in the hopes of at least giving him a head start at a getaway. I know Xena is still out there somewhere, but she's hiding from me.

Finally, we go to bed. But not before I retrieve what looks suspiciously like a mutated giant locust from the bedroom carpet and give him a quick burial at sea (flush).

"There's too much wildlife running around here tonight..."

So this morning, I go outside, and no Xena, although I do hear her.

"Meowmeowmeowmeowmeowmeowmeow"

Which usually means "Hold up! I'm coming! Where the fuck have you been for the last six hours?! Call yourself a hotel? Where's the damn night porter!"

However, the mewing is not getting any close. In fact it seems pretty close already.

After wondering around, I finally figure out it is coming from the roof.

Xena wants down. And I mean NOW.

But she won't let me grab her. She won't jump into my arms (fat chance).

I go get the ladder. No dice. She won't climb down it, and every time I try and grab her, she moves away.

After thinking about this for a while, I decide that if she got up there, she can damn well figure out how to get down.

If I start assisting her, she'll come to expect it. These buggers learn quickly.

I ran the bath tap one night very gently so Delilah could get a drink, and from that night on, all three of them come sit in the bathtub at bedtime waiting for the water to be run. That is when they're not off on some nefarious mouse-hunting-roof-climbing episode.

So I have a cat on a roof, acting like she can't get down.

And it's all my fault, because I didn't get a new lock for the front door - one that would actually handle copies of the keys being made.

Oh well. Such is life. I guess this weekend I am going door lock hunting.

In the meantime, if anyone knows how to get a cat off a roof without small arms fire being involved, I'm all ears...