Higher Intelligence

So it's official - the process of moving into Michelle's began last week, when I moved my Stripy Catboy in (furniture and clothes to follow by the end of the month).
Fagin spent a month around xmas here, but he wasn't allowed out 'cos theoretically he was supposed to be moving back to mine, with me, but that didn't last very long. I was missing him so much I decided to bring him back here, and then decided to stop paying rent on a place I use only as a stoage room.
So, after letting him get used to the smells and feel of the place again, we've started letting him out, to allow him to make this his home. For the first time he is exploring 2 gardens - front and back (we lived in a back to back before), and he can wander in and out as he wants when the security grills are on and the doors are open. He has fences to climb, a quiet road, some kids, more cats and a nice thriving population of birds to threaten. Plus, he has Cj round his little paw and only has to miaow at her in the tone that suggests his bowl is empty and she will instantly refill it for him. Cat heaven.
He first went out on Monday afternoon for a couple of minutes, and I was close behind him. On Tuesday, I sat reading in the back garden while he trotted around sniffing things and rubbing his chin on twigs and bricks. He disappeared into both gardens next door, but dutifully returned when he was called. I put him out the of the other door to let him get used to that side as well, and he went a bit further away, was out of sight and mind for about an hour, but came hurtling back with his tail in the air and a happy bounce in his gait when I called him. Of course he got fussed over like mad.
And then we let him out at night. He was out for a couple of hours in the pitch black with all the tougher cats on the estate, and I was a little worried, but he came back and miaowed to be let in and then settled on the bed exhausted.
All day yesterday he just seemed to want to sleep or doze somewhere warm - sitting on the windowsill in our room above the pipes, on the couch with me while I was reading, on the warm bit of floor where the pipe comes up close to the wood on the landing.
And then last night he was out all night. He went out at midnight when I went to bed. And we heard nothing of him until exactly 7am. Michelle had been awake working on the computer all that time - worrying about him and no doubt also about the fact that she's having teeth pulled today, keeping an ear out, but it was me who heard him. And the noise was coming from the other side of the house. I was dead chuffed at first that my cat had proved himself clever enough to figure out that front and back were not discrete and separate worlds, but could be connected by trotting a few extra houses down to the end of the row and out through the ginnel, or round by the road. So I went to the back door and called him in. I could hear him miaowing excitedly, but couldn't see where he was or understand why he wasn't coming in. I started to worry - was he injured? Trapped somewhere close to the door, unable to get any closer and panicking? And then I looked up - to where the sloping roof for the back door rises to our bedroom window - and there was my boycat's face, and he didn't look too sure of himself.
I dashed up the stairs, and Michelle came out of the computer room looking worried as I shouted to her that he was on the roof. I opened our window and let him in - and he came tumbling through, chattering at us and pleased to be inside, and went straight down to his food bowl with Michelle in tow.
The clever bastard put all that together in his head within a couple of hours of casing the joint from the outside, and by staring out of the window. Apparently the 2 giant cat-flaps we have at front and back for him are not enough. He has decided he prefers to use his specialised personal entrance that takes him directly into our room.