Finian, our Maine Coon cat, longs to be outdoors. He sits in the windows staring at the birds, the occasional chipmunk, and the resident bunny family. He paces, his huge furry tail swishing with urgency – the same swishing he displays as mealtime approaches. We have to work at keeping him safely indoors.

Finian is not a warm and fuzzy personality. He’s loyal, just not cozy. He wants to be where I am, just not on me. When I head to the kitchen to prepare dinner, he follows. He follows me to bed at night, requiring five minutes of head and neck scratching before curling up behind my knees for the night.

Our furry boy is a typically curious cat. For him, that means checking out anyone who comes to the door. He saunters close, sniffs their shoes and pantlegs quite thoroughly, and when the visitor has passed muster, he wanders away – satisfied with his inspection. He pays no mind to whether it’s a plumber, a dinner guest, or a drop-in visitor. As soon as he hears a car in the driveway, he is at the front door waiting to see who enters. He typically disappears after his doorway inspection and all is well with his world. For some reason, he doesn’t work hard at escaping out the front door. However, the door to the deck is different.

Our back deck leads to the flora and fauna in the yard. Finian is particularly interested in all that fauna – anything with wings, or any four-legged creature scurrying across the yard. During the summer, he hangs around the living room deck door, hoping for a chance to traipse out on the heels of one of us. We have to warn house guests to be vigilant. He cannot be an outdoor cat, but he’s definitely a wannabe.

This year, his eighth, has been the turning point in his thrill-seeking gene. He wants out and he wants us to know it. Naturally, since he’s never been an outdoor cat, allowing him outside is an invitation to disaster. With his particular type of curiosity, I can just imagine him sauntering up to a coyote for an inquisitive sniff and becoming an hors d’oeuvre in the process. A stray dog, a raccoon, a hawk – any carnivorous critter out there would see him as furry fair game.

Considering Finian’s desire to be “out there” and our need to protect him from enemies he doesn’t know, I made a decision. What I felt was an informed decision. I bought a catio. I know, I know. It’s an indulgence. But I was frustrated for him, and I just want him to be happy.

A catio you say? What the heck is a catio? I have a lovely friend and cat lover who has treated her felines to an attached built-in catio. She opens the window and they head outdoors into to a large caged room. I don’t have an appropriate window for that to work, but after I Googled “catio,” I found there is a world of portable catios, of every size, shape, and multi-cat configuration. You want to spend $89? $189? $2089? You have two cats? Three cats? They offer recreation and fun for all your felines. I finally succumbed.

It arrived in a VERY large immovable box. It required assembly. When I returned to the website to check out the particulars, I sensibly decided that 98 parts to be assembled was w-a-a-a-y above Dear Richard’s and my pay grade. Our friend, Doug, assembled the black catio for us including the two access doors, the red perches, and the hammock. Towing his trailer, Doug delivered the 65″ tall cat house to our deck. I was thrilled. Think of all the wonderful times our kitty will enjoy – being outdoors, watching all the critters, jumping from perch to perch.

Finian hates it. He has now spent part of three afternoons in it. Normally a very quiet creature, he meows almost non-stop. “Get me outta this thing,” was one translation. “Fuggedaboudit” was another.

We placed the catio in a niche at the end of the deck. It fits perfectly. But, it is not near us as we sit, write, read, and eat at the other end of the deck. He is caged and lonely. And vocal. I get it.

Doug is now going to put a floor on the bottom and attach wheels to it. Then we can easily roll him to the party. I know it is new and that Finian has to adapt. Adapting could take time. A little red flag is flapping – saying to me that he might not adapt easily. He is, after all, a cat. They do only as they please. I contend that he will adapt. It’s early in the battle of wills.

Stay tuned.

Marcy O’Brien can be contacted at Moby.32@hotmail.com.