The Kitten
It (rather, he) followed me through the doors as I tried (to the best of my ability) close each subsequent door before it... he... had the chance to make it through. The escape through each room was a chore; a game; a routine. Something obtained for the purpose of comfort had given that and more, but at the sacrifice of privacy, freedom, and a self-learned love of loneliness. The grass is always greener -- always greener.