Let the cat in.

You open the door. The cat walks in like it pays rent here.

It doesn't go for the kitchen. It doesn't care about the coffee. It trots straight down the hall and sits in front of the closet you've been avoiding since Nov. 1, the one where Halloween goes to hibernate.

The door is open a crack. You definitely closed it.

The cat looks at the closet. Then at you. Then back at the closet. Then it slips out the back door, which is also somehow open, and pauses on the step like it's waiting.

What do you do?