When I come from from work, I do the same thing every day.  I let Fred and Majic go outside.  Rico the Neurotic Cat usually chooses not to venture outside,  he is too afraid of his shadow during the day.  He will go out at night and stay out willingly all night long though (go figure). 

Lately, when I push Fred out the door, he will return in five minutes.  My cats have been trained to sit on the window ledge.  I can see them and open the window and they are back inside with a minimum amount of effort on both sides. 

This particular day, Fred and Majic went out the door.  Five minutes later, Fred was sitting on the ledge, glaring at me.  He wanted back inside.   It was the first warm and true summery day that we had here in weeks.  I was tired and was relaxing on the couch.  I looked at him and decided that the fresh air would do him some good. He could stay outside a while longer.  He continued to give me his death ray look for several more minutes and then disappeared.

Within an hour, I heard his meow, it was high pitched and constant.  I immediately thought that he had been injured somehow.  I looked out the window.  He was crouched on the deck with a bird in his mouth.  As far as I knew Fred had never killed a bird in his 12 years with me.  Mice, voles and snakes met their Maker through him, but never a bird.  He stared at me with the half-alive bird dangling from his jaws.  The bird was almost dead, its wings flapped weakly.  I went to the door, the least that I could do was try to free it and see if it could be saved somehow.  Fred was having none of that.  He ran away and kept just out of my reach.  I came back inside.  Several hours later, I checked again.  He was sitting in the driveway with the now dead bird between his front paws.  When he saw that I had opened the door, he abandoned his prey and came inside.

I yelled at him for killing the bird, an exercise in futility, I know.  He kept staring at me with his eyes narrowed.  I know that we cannot give animals human attributes and motiviations.  However, I am convinced that Fred killed that bird in an attempt to demonstrate to me what would happen if I did not let him back into the house when he wanted in.

So a power struggle has now developed between me and my cat.  The winner will get to decide Fred's comings and goings.  So far, the winner is me, but I have to wonder as I shovel dead bird off my driveway before I can get into my car.