A moment of fright

Last night when David and I came home from my parents' house, David took out his key to unlock the kitchen door and said, "The cat runs out every time we open the door." I told him that this time, though, I had food for her, so she'd come right back in again.

So I was a little surprised when she didn't dart outside as soon as we'd opened the door. I stepped inside and heard her mewing from behind the door. What on earth? I put down the things I was carrying and looked toward the door. Zoë had her paw stuck, angled underneath the open door! (When she hears us outside on the porch, she often sticks her paw under the door to welcome us.)

This had never happened before! When we'd opened the kitchen door, we'd inadvertently squashed her paw beneath it. It was wedged pretty tightly. I cried out for David to come and help me. He set down his things and approached. But he was as puzzled as I. How could we get Zoë's paw out from under the door? Swinging the door on its hinge either way only worsened the wedge. (I'm sure my grampa could have solved the problem without any trouble, but we were perplexed.)

Then David reached up and began picking pieces of concrete from around the top of the doorframe. For the whole time we've lived in this flat, we've complained about its falling apart, losing plaster every time you shut the door sort of thing. But this time, it saved Zoë! David removed two large chunks of concrete that had been put in between the wooden doorframe and the fake brick of the house. Then he lifted up the doorframe, unstuck Zoë's paw, and put the concrete pieces back in place.

Zoë's paw was fine, and we just laughed and laughed about taking our house apart to get her free. We're not likely to complain too much about our house's falling apart anymore, since it helped get Zoë out of a real tight spot!