The catio has stopped being a structure and started being a schedule.
It went up as a simple screened box off the back of the house — cedar frame, wire mesh, a couple of shelves at staggered heights so nobody has to share. What it has become is a fixed part of the day. The cats are at the door after breakfast and training. They enjoy being out at dusk when the squirrels, rabbits and sparrows are the most active.
The bug situation
The floor of the catio is good for hiding among the potted plants. A good place for a hunt that can never happen — except when bugs of any size show up. On a number of occasions flies have made it from the catio tunnel into the house and caused an enormous amount of joy and chasing until inevitably the fly is cornered and caught.
Although eating of bugs is strongly discouraged, it does happen. On occasion the bugs have been rather large and left for dead by the catio entrance just inside the house. This is one of the main reasons the catio door is locked late at night not to be opened until the humans have awoken.
Appointment viewing
The fence line is barely a meter out, and the bushes grow right against it — so keeping tabs on the neighbor's yard means peering through the gaps in the leaves, with the focus of someone reading very small print. The squirrels run the top of the fence, or take the low road along the little stone pathway wall. And lately there is a third channel: the catio sits a few inches off the ground, and things have learned to pass directly underneath it. Being walked under is, apparently, an outrage.
The really good grass — the grass that usually has bunnies in it — is in view from the catio as well, though no photograph here can prove it. Whenever the camera comes out, the grass is empty and the cats are facing the other way. You will have to take our word for the bunnies.
Nothing is ever caught. Nothing is ever going to be caught. This appears to have no effect whatsoever on the quality of the entertainment.