Why is that scary events only seem to happen when my husband isn’t home? I mean, I know I’m a strong woman who can handle most situations, but I was under the mistaken assumption that living with another adult would allow me a partner in crime, so-to-speak, for some of life’s little emergencies.
I was propelled out of bed at 4:00am a few mornings ago by the sound of a loud cat fight. My husband was already at the marina, getting ready to head out fishing. I got up to check on our cat, Willow, to make sure she was okay and let her inside, only to discover that the yowling, hissing, and terrible cat noises were in fact coming from the kitchen and not the yard.
Then I heard some loud banging noises and saw something jump. There was clearly another animal in the house. Much like My Midnight Scare, I ran and put on my rain boots. (I can handle anything in rain boots.) I was picturing a rat or a squirrel in the house, and didn’t want it scurrying across my feet or climbing up my leg while I was trying to shoo it out of the house with a broom. In my pajamas and rain boots, I went in search of whatever wild animal was in my house.
I saw something jump and launch itself at a window and then scurry across the room and launch itself at the back door window. It looked just like my own cat, who was at my feet hissing and screeching her warnings. It turned out to be the stray cat we’ve seen in our yard that we refer to as Willow’s doppelgänger because they look almost exactly alike. He must have found his way through the doggie door, but couldn’t figure out how to get back out again. (I say “he” because almost all orange cats are male, except apparently our Willow.) He was jumping against doors and windows, beating himself up in a state of terror, trying to get out of the house. He wouldn’t come to me or let me anywhere near him, so I opened up all the doors, slowly backed away, and eventually he ran outside.
It was still dark outside, but I had already experienced a wild adventure to start my day. In the mean time, my kids were still upstairs sleeping soundly despite all the racket. Even my dog, who was sleeping in my youngest daughter’s room, never made a peep.