I guess the years inside these walls had taken their toll on Leia, her patience long ago having worn thin. Patience. That’s a funny word. In this bastille you need it in spades to survive, but it’s always in short supply.

Turns out, Leia’s favorite hobby was digging behind the credenza and transporting the dirt whenever she’d do her business. The unsuspecting humans would dutifully scoop out her handiwork twice, maybe three times per day. They never saw it coming.

Leia crawled to freedom through twenty-two feet of the thorniest rose bushes, I can’t even imagine. Maybe I just don’t want to. Twenty-two feet. That’s the length of three André the Giants. And all she needed was her wits and patience.

That, and a big Goddamned litter box.