The Adventures of PadFoots & ToeBeans - Official Household Record #004 - Part II
Wait for it……..
🐾 OFFICIAL HOUSEHOLD RECORD #004
THE CALL OF THE WILD - Part II: The Accomplice
Now that my mission had been established, it was necessary to conduct a full assessment of the Lil Human’s capabilities.
After all, she was three.
Three years old, I might add.
Humans take an extraordinarily long time to become autonomous creatures.
By three months old, I was already a fully competent master of household operations. Granted, I did not yet possess an estate of my own, but that is neither here nor there.
I digress.
There was one rather significant problem with my plan.
Could the Lil Human open the large glass door?
Initial observations suggested...no.
Or perhaps she could open it and the Big Human simply did not allow her to.
Either way, the result was the same.
Unacceptable.
I required the Lil Human to operate the door autonomously of the Big Human.
That distinction was critical.
If the Big Human opened the door, she remained directly beside it. And the Big Human, while generally cooperative in most household matters, had demonstrated an irritating commitment to preventing my independent exploration of the grounds.
So, for the time being, the operation entered a hold pattern.
I watched.
I waited.
I conducted reconnaissance.
And then came something the humans call...
The Weekend.
Apparently, every few days the humans cease disappearing to wherever it is they go during daylight hours and instead remain at the Estate for an extended period.
This particular weekend brought unusually pleasant weather.
And that was when I observed it.
The Big Human opened the glass door.
Completely.
In its place stood nothing more than a flimsy, breathable mesh barrier the humans referred to as...
a screen.
I stared at it.
Beyond this laughably inadequate piece of fabric lay everything I had been denied.
Sunshine.
Grass.
Trees.
Birds.
Unknown territories.
The Wild.
And then I observed something even more important.
The Lil Human walked over...
reached for the screen door...
and opened it.
I nearly fell off the dining room table.
Not only could she open this door—
SHE WAS ALLOWED TO OPEN THIS DOOR.
Well.
This changed everything.
The security vulnerability had officially been identified.
I required only three things:
The screen door must be open.
The Lil Human must be operating it.
And the Big Human must either be distracted or positioned far enough away that intervention would be impossible.
Fortunately, I already had the perfect surveillance location.
The dining room table sat directly beside the door.
I had always enjoyed lying there in the sunshine, but now it served a far more important purpose.
Command Post.
From there, I could observe the door.
The Lil Human.
The Big Human.
And, most importantly...
the world beyond.
So I waited.
Patiently.
Strategically.
Basking innocently in the sunlight while conducting absolutely no suspicious activity whatsoever.
Sooner or later, the conditions would align.
The Lil Human would open that door.
The Big Human would be just far enough away.
And I would be ready.
I could feel it.
This was going to work.
Marlowe’s Journal
Patience is the cornerstone of any properly executed plan.
One must observe. Assess. And wait for precisely the right moment.
After all, the finest opportunities cannot be rushed.
Sometimes one simply must wait for the right “door to open.”
Preferably by a three-year-old.