Last night, the stout and fluffy little monster went outside and shouted to come back in more or less straight away. I ignored her, but when I looked out a short while later, she was nowhere to be seen. I called her, to no avail, but this is pretty normal and I didn't think too much of it. But when Ju Ju still hadn't returned by the time Patsington and I were retiring to bed, I began to get worried. After all, she never waddles too far away from the house, so for her not to respond to a call for this long is not the norm. Finally I had to give up, and was besieged with worries about Ju Ju getting into a car accident/being attacked by a fox/ getting trapped somewhere.
And then, just when I was going to turn off the bedside light, I realised that I hadn't drawn the curtains in the spare room, and went in to do so.
And there, sitting in the bed, purring like a jet engine, was the dreadful Ju Ju. The small window had been open a crack that afternoon to air the room (whose door has to be kept closed because if not, Ju Ju claims it as her own), and somehow the revolting animal had managed to push it open and clamber in. While I had been calling her in increasing desperation, she had been lolling on the spare room duvet, covering it with her fluff.
She's currently sitting slap bang in the middle of the couch, although she is fully aware that she's not allowed.
She is a very, very bold cat. I do love her, though.