I know that y'all have been waiting in suspense for four whole days to the answer to whether or not my house is going to explode from the air pressure or if it is in fact inhabited by the seventh level of hell. The answer gave itself away the next day, but the greatest clue did not present itself until last night while I was on the computer.
The answer (and clue number uno), I found sunbathing himself on my window ledge. While this clue greatly reduces my suspect pool to one, it still doesn't explain HOW? How does an animal with no opposable thumbs open the door? How does this work?
Last night as I was busily surfing the web with the craftroom door shut, to keep Nigel out of my lap and off my keyboard, I began to get the inkling Nigel somehow wanted to be with me. And by inkling, I mean the doorhandle turned all by itself and the door opened. Nigel meandered in shortly after in the hopes of wedgeing himself between my eyes and the screen.
Turns out he is tall enough and smart enough to learn that he can open the door just like a person, using only his paws and his weight (i.e. belly flab). As pictured below-imagine his right paw (that would be on the left side of the picture) behind the wood paneling beginning to pull down.
Photo two shows a close up of just how close Nig can get to the door handle. Notice the intent staring at the handle to watch and see when he can begin to let go. Notice the lock on the inside of the door, thus my quandry in how to keep him out. The door does have a "key" of sorts that is relatively similar to a flat head screwdriver, so you must learn to be a lock picking artist. I am very nearly on my way to learning how to open it up on feel alone. Watch out, when I visit your house none of your valubles are safe from me!
In knitting news, I am frogging the tube scarf, "boa," for Vanessa. The tube form uses too much yarn, so I will have to make a flat version inorder to lengthen the boa. Too bad for a quick knit.