This is me in my favourite spot - outside. Since my humans adopted me, they have battled against my determination to be an outside cat. They can see how much I love being outside, but they do everything they can to trick me into staying in (bribery, ignoring me while I scream at them to let me out, locking the doors, etc), but sometimes I outsmart them and I get out there into my world. When that happens, they worry.
I did once break my leg (they have no idea how but they think I fell out of a tree). And I once brought a family of raccoons home. (One of them actually followed me into the house). And I regularly come home covered in dirt, and once poo.
So I suppose I can't blame them for worrying. I am happier when I am out, and they are happier when I'm in. It's what you might call a cat conundrum.