remember when i let you in on my over-protective schpiel about that dirty storage room and the cats? that they always peeeer under the door and fantacize about getting to the other side, because they can sMeLL the mischief to be had there?
WELL. i was right.
this morning, just shy of 5am, i am yanked to consciousness by that back-o-the-neck, goosebump primeval noise: yowwwwwoOOWWW!!" "YOWWWWW!!! SSSSSSSS!!! SSSSSS!!!" and the sound of a fur-flying ruckous. great.
"guys, what's going on?" i call from bed, clap my hands (our disciplinary correction) and pull the covers back over my head wishing that the problem would go away of its own accord. no, not that lucky.
"YOWWWW!!!!! sssss! SSSSS!!" it's kitty, i can tell; i've heard this one before. i throw back the covers and make my way in the dark to see that kitty has scrambled in retreat under a fabric hanging that covers the wall behind troy's desk. rodolfo is batting antagonistically at the goofy lump she makes under the fabric. i clap my hands to get him to move, and flick on the light. as soon as he leaves the cowering, growling lump-o-kitty, rodolfo~~still bushy-tailed,~~slinks over to "the door" that leads to that drafty dark dirty storage room. he lowers his head so that the crack under the door is eye level, and sniff-sniff-sniffs.
oh. so that's what's going on; there's a visitor in the storage room. uck. i try NOT to imagine what it might be on the other side. . a rat.. a possum.. ~~a person wouldn't cause this kitty freak-out session (they'd just hide in the closet); this could mean only one animal as far as i can remember. . . i crouch down, in nuthin-but-my-socks, swallow, and do my version of The Rodolfo~~i squint one eye, and look through the crack under the door. there he is, sitting on his haunches right beside bri's suitcase: a tomcat. looking over at us. he seems young; he's petite and buzzing with energy even as he sits. black and white spotted, with long-ish fur. i haven't seen him around here during the day. he must indeed be "on the prowl."
knowing at least what i'm up against, i swat rodolfo out of the way (who, of course, is always happy to let someone else do the dirty work. about the only thing he's "good" for is mangling small crickets.. ) and open the door. the tom is gone in a flash. i hear him scrambling past some empty boxes, and~~i imagine~~out the hole through which he entered.
snoozing in the breezy windowsill, the cats have just now calmed down after being on-edge all morning. kitty acting stricken and "violated" all the while. rodolfo practicing his suavest old-west style slink-n-prowl.
SEE??!! i told you i didn't trust the dark drafty corners of that storage room!! we'll have to see what the Misters Handymen can do about fixing that hole..