Many lessons in life are learned by making mistakes — in my case, plenty of them. For example, I learned the hard way not to leave a gate open, even if it is just for a few minutes or even if there are no cows in sight.

Along the same line, I’ve learned to tie a twine or twist a wire around the gate and gate pole, even after sliding the gate chain into its slot. I’ve learned that cows can sniff out an open gate, and they can rub hard enough on a gate to pull a chain up.

This past week, I learned another lesson the hard way. First, some background. I feed several feral cats that have come here from parts unknown. I put food and water out on the front porch twice a day, and, for laziness reasons, I like to be able to reach out, without walking onto the porch, and pour food and water into the pans. (This is especially desirable on snowy, cold mornings.) The problem is that the cats are used to my routine, so they wait for me and crowd up around the door.

There are two doors — the outside door that opens into the front porch and the inner door that leads into the main part of the house. For a while now the cats have been crowding the small open space through which I manage to fill pans. So then one morning this past week … guess what?

This particular morning the cats — not really gentle but not really wild, either — were extra pushy, and a young black cat with white markings either pushed through the space or was pushed through it; either way, he was in the house. I tried to reach the inside door, but I was too late. I saw the cat run into the front bedroom.

I went about my chores, but not before I closed the inside door. All the while I was admonishing myself; why didn’t I close the inside door before feeding the cats? So now I had a cat in the house — a cat I couldn’t touch and I didn’t know where he was hiding. I decided the smartest thing was to ignore him. Perhaps he would come out.

I met with clients by phone for two hours. When I was finished, I found my broom, went into the bedroom and poked around under the bed. It took several tries, but finally the cat darted out from under the bed, raced through the dining room and kitchen, and ran somewhere in the back part of the house.

I sat down and drank a cup of coffee. Then I took my broom, went to the back part of the house, opened the back door (there were no cats around) and started my search — wash room, bathroom and bedroom. I stirred around under the bed. No cat.

I drank another cup of coffee. I stirred around under the bed again. I explored the space under my cedar chest in the hallway. Bingo! The cat crawled out from under. I attempted to push him in the direction of the open door but no luck. He ran back through the kitchen. I checked the rooms, even under the couch.

Finally my search took me to the front porch. Luckily he was there, trying to figure out how to get through a closed window. I shut the inner door. I opened the outside door. I fed the cats to keep them busy. I used my broom to encourage the cat to go toward the opening. After a few attempts to crawl up the wall, the cat headed to the open space and ran out.

I muttered, “I’ll never to that again!”