Oh, @Milo, my dear, you missed your opportunity to be godlike. You must still be very young.
When the door was opened, you could have paused so as not to show any unseemly haste, licked your paws in a most serene fashion, and glided with perfect dignity to the outer door, lifting your chin and your tail ever so slightly with the merest harrumph, and gone outside, leaving Gail in awestruck admiration. Later she would have built a statue of gold for you and placed it on a marble pedestal. You know how she is.
Instead you stooped, or shall I say squatted, to crass revenge. And on the oriental carpet, too. A little obvious, don’t you think? Next time at least go upstairs and use her slipper.
I must tell you that one of your spiritual cousins had a penchant for dashing into open closet doors. She had many a chance to learn her lesson as we missed her later and came back to hear her scratching and crying to be let out, but for some reason the sight of the open door continued to be as powerful and irresistible to her as a posthypnotic suggestion. We had to make it a family rule that we would never leave the house unless both cats were in sight.
But one holiday weekend we must have made one last trip back inside for something as we loaded the car, and we somehow failed to follow the rule. We came home from three nights away (with plenty of food and water left out for the two of them) and missed one. We called and searched and stressed out. Eventually we opened the closet door, and she yawned, stretched, and got sleepily up off a pile of sweaters. She had not even made a single mess in the closet, much less tearing anything up. We felt so sorry and horrible that we made a dreadful fuss over her for weeks and pretty much promised her anything she wanted.
You see, revenge is very sweet, but it’s got nothing on making them feel so guilty that they become your abject slaves. Next time try that.