Conversations with Min

Min dashes out the front door between the roommate's legs.

Min: Haha! I'm shooting through that door you've been trying to keep me behind.

Min screeches to a halt on the front porch, legs spinning like a Warner Brothers cartoon cat.

Min: Holy crap! It's the outside!

Min shoots back inside and turns indignantly to me.

Min: Why the hell didn't you tell me it was the outside where the nasty boy cats hang out?
Me: I imagine that's how you became a lost kitty in the first place, being a smart ass like that.

Min starts ostentatiously cleaning her front paw.

Min: I no longer wish to discuss it, if it's all the same to you.

The roommate and I, however, had a (mostly congenial) discussion about door management.

Later:

Min leaps up onto the kitchen counter so she can look out the front window and eat the catnip growing there. I come into the kitchen.

Min: Busted!
Me: No, it's okay.
Min: (shocked) It is?
Roommate (entering the kitchen): Yeah, it's okay. We don't mind you getting on the kitchen counter.
Min: (shockeder) You don't? I suppose next you're going to tell me it's okay to get on the dining room table?
Me and Roommate: Pretty much, yeah.
Roommate: Obviously, you came from a household that had rules, but this is a permissive household.
Min: What is wrong with you people? It's no fun if it's permitted.

Poor Min. We are a strange household that way. But in our defense, we do clean thoroughly. :-)