The Adventures of Martha: Escape Artist Caterpillar

So yesterday, I found a wooly bear caterpillar on the walk, and picked it up. In a mood to be silly, I took it home with me, put it in the pocket of my jacket, and sat down at the computer in the lounge to updated Facebook and work on my NaNoWriMo novel.
Forty-five minutes later, I thoght to check my pocket.
Martha was no longer there.
I'm panicking, picking up my chair to look underneath and shaking out the sleeves of my jacket and telling the friend that I'm chatting with online, "Martha's gone! Martha's gone!"
I have a sudden fear that she might be inside my clothes, so I sit down to type "What if she's inside my pant leg", but I only get as far as, "what if she's--" when I feel a prickle on my ankle.
Reaching down, I grab at it, and there she is, looking quite pleased with herself and quite put out with me, the one who spoiled her escape.
"Not going to get very far going that way," I inform her, grabbing a Dixie cup to keep her in.
About an hour later, I went to bed, but in my tired state of mind...(cue dramatic music) I left Martha behind.
In the dark of the night, in the shadows within the dorm lounge, something stirred.
Meanwhile, I had a very good night's sleep, thanks to daylight savings time, and got up for breakfast the next morning with no mishaps.
After breakfast, returning to the dorm with friends, I suddenly wondered where I had left Martha, and if my roommate would freak out if she found a wooly bear caterpillar in a Dixie cup on my desk. Reaching the front door of the dorm, I looked down to see a wooly bear caterpillar in the process of inching its way out under the door.
"Look at that," I joked to my friend Emily. "It's one of Martha's cousins. Either that, or Martha's making a break for it!"
We laughed, and I scooped up the caterpillar, thinking to give Martha some company.
Entering the dorm, I looked into the lounge.
"Um, isn't that the cup you had Martha in?" Emily asked.
I glanced inside, and sure enough, there was my Dixie cup, tipped over on its side and (cue more dramatic music) empty.
I looked down at the caterpillar in my hand.
I looked up at the cup.
Down at the caterpillar.
Up at my friend.
"Oh." I said. "So I have an escape artist for a caterpillar."
The creature raised itself up and looked at me, for all the world as if she were saying "Duh."

Anyone have the number for Houdini? I think he's lost his pet.