Like every other modern-day family, we are
barely hanging on through this rat-race called life allowing our children too many opportunities to the point where we have sacrificed almost everything for ourselves running every which way on almost every available free moment. Typically my day starts at 5:30am when I hit the ground running, and ends somewhere between midnight and 2:00am (usually when I almost pass out). Doing the math, you can quickly figure out that sometimes my sleep patterns catch up with me - and it's very difficult to drag my weary self out of bed. This was the case earlier this week.
We have a fantastic clock that projects the time (in large numbers) on the ceiling of our bedroom
so when I can't sleep, I can literally watch every minute that passes so blind folk like me don't need our glasses on to see it. Unfortunately, it also projects the outside temperature. When it's summer and 25* outside - that's bearable and neat to see - you know it's going to be warm day. When it's winter, it's a whole 'nother story. When you wake up and it says -25*, you know that 1) it's more like -32* (damn windchill), and 2) you're going to freeze your patootie off as you run for your morning pee, and moreover 3) you know that your nose hairs are going to freeze the second you walk out that front door and that frost bite will set in about 5 seconds later. SO... back to Thursday...I woke up and the ceiling loudly announced that it was
f*&*ing cold - like cold enough to warrant us to pack up and move somewhere warmer a chilly -28* outside. It had also been a bit of a rough night the night before. I was catching up on laundry, doing assignments, tidying the house and then catching up on some PVR'd shows. About 30 minutes after I did get to bed, Imp came running, and I mean running - fast, into our room. Normally he pulls the mattress out from under our bed (it's there just for this reason) and sets up his blankets and a pillow there, but this time he launched himself onto the bed - his heart racing. Clearly something had spooked him badly. I learned years ago that we don't engage him in conversation about it at the time because it freaks him out even more. SO, I put my arm around him and let him fall asleep, and when he did, I moved him to his 'space' on the mattress at the end of our bed. Just an FYI - we aren't heartless, but sleeping with Imp is like sleeping with a little heated octopus. He radiates heat and constantly flails and kicks us. Oh, and he farts. A lot. Anyway, as I was drifting off to sleep, I became aware of some noises. One had me going to check that the doors were indeed locked, and the other made me go look in Banshee's room - but, it just seemed as though her book had fallen to the floor. So, I went to bed and finally fell fast asleep. Well, until 5:30am when my canine alarm woke me with an arm-pit licking (she is the craziest animal I know - she licks our armpits - every chance she gets). I rolled over and pretended that I didn't have to get up. When the alarm officially went off a bit later, I hit snooze - over, and over, and OVER. Did you know that the length of time during the snooze break gets shorter and shorter every time you hit it? It does. I know.
So...I finally get up. The dog is whining and almost crossing her legs. It's still early and no one else in the 'burbs is crazy enough to be up, so instead of getting myself dressed or my other half getting dressed and going out into the Arctic Tundra to walk the dog, I just open the front door and let her run out on her own - you know, kind of like a self walking program. She loves the freedom, we don't actually have to go out, so it's win-win for everyone involved. Well, unless she shits on someone else's yard - that might not be so much of a win for them - however, she typically holds her bowel explosions for the confinement of her own yard. Anyway, I let the dog out to "walk" herself. As usual no one else is up in our house. I start making the lunches, and going through my morning routine. Then go down to the laundry room to switch over the loads. As usual, the door closes behind me. No big deal. Then I hear scratching at the other side of the door. Again, no big deal, the dog always follows me around and is just trying to get in to see what I'm doing. I call out to her and tell her to stop scratching. It continues. I push the door a bit so it'll knock into her so she'll stop. And she did, but only for a second, then the scratching happens again. I'm about to go out and
give her shit chastise her, when I feel like something or someone is watching me. My spidey-senses start to tingle and I turn toward the window. There, at the window, on the outside looking inside is my dog, nose covered in snow and her ear all flipped back. Her tail is wagging and she excitedly paws at the window as if she's waving to me. Except there is still scratching at the other side of the door; scratching that I thought was this same dog who is outside of the house looking in at me. We don't have any other animals. At first I think it's one of the kids, but they aren't quiet enough to pull of a prank like that, and when I quietly called out to them to stop (on the off chance it WAS them), there was no giggles, no running...just continued scratching. The only other possibility is a mouse. A big, big, BIG killer mouse with fangs and claws. And it's frantically trying to get in so it can go for my jugular. So,
I start to panic I try to logically figure out what is going on. I
frantically calmly look around the laundry room for some kind of protection. The only thing I can find is the toilet brush or a box of bounce sheets. Yeah, none of that is going to protect me from whatever is on the other side of that door. If I don't do something soon, it's going to scratch clear through the door and will leave me for dead. What I really want to do is scream bloody murder so my other half will come running to the rescue, however, I don't want to freak the kids out because that will cause issues later on, not to mention, I don't know what wild and crazy beast is out there and if it will hurt someone. So, like any rational and calm person, I prepare myself. I contemplate trying to crawl through the window to get outside so I can run around to the front door, but there is A LOT of snow and I don't have any socks or shoes on. Then I contemplate trying to lift the dog in through the window to be my protection, but I remember that she's a bigger chicken shit than me, and will likely run off and have a heart attack. SO, I summon up the courage I need and ride the adrenaline rush, pushing the door hard. There was some resistance, but the scratching stopped as a thud occurred on the other side of the door. There was definitely something big there I ran faster than I ever have up those stairs and as I rolled across the floor into the kitchen, I slammed the door to the basement closed. Just as I was getting up to peer down the stairs at what was down there, a big, black furry mass slams against the glass on the door. Initially I yelp because I'm positive it's a skunk, except skunks aren't so plentiful at this time of year, and it would have sprayed already anyway. Then it peers up at me through the window, and I realize it's a cat. The same goddamn cat that relentlessly torments my dog. Oh my god! The dog. She's still outside...but I can't let her in because she'll lose her shit on this cat and will probably eat it for breakfast in a blood bath. I open the door ever so carefully and this little prick comes up to my legs, purring and rubbing against me like he's some sort of wanted and regular guest. By this point, the dog is at the front window looking in. She sees her enemy and starts to go bat-shit crazy. I grab the cat, open the back door and toss it out, then run to the front door and let the dog in. She of course goes straight out the back door and chases that little fur-ball out of the yard. That little shit sits on the other side of the fence and starts to groom itself - all the while, driving my dog a little closer to the edge of sanity.
I should have just let the dog deal with that cat. It would have eliminated a lot of the anxiety our dog has (that cat causes MUCH grief for our crazy little beast on a daily basis during the warmer weather). The presence of that cat answered some questions about the noises I was hearing the night before, and was responsible for Imp being so scared - I mean, I'd be crapping myself too if I saw 2 beady, shifty eyes staring at me when I knew my dog was in my parents room (knowing that by the snoring trio coming from Mom and Dad's room). Honestly, I give him all the credit in the world for not completely losing his shit over that - because if it was me, I probably would have literally shit the bed. BUT...the bigger question is how did that cat get in the house in the first place? I mean, it's not like we have doors or windows open (remember, it's -20something*). When I asked the kids, no one knew. I know that my other wouldn't have let it in - he is not a fan of cats at all. The only thing I can put it down to is that Imp usually has his nose buried in his iPad or computer or Banshee with her nose in her book as they open the door for the dog to let it in. Maybe the cat just darted in before? Who knows, but...it was there, and caused much excitement for a morning. It also brought back memories to when Teen was a young girl...she let a cat in, who promptly went under the coffee table and pissed on the carpet, then ran into my bedroom and pissed on the floor, and then hid (and shit) under teens bed. Oddly enough...these cats belong to the same owners. I wonder if they were worried about their cat that night because I assume it was there all night. And...I don't understand how the dog didn't know that she was there - unless she did, but was scared because it was in her space. No one will ever know. What I do know is that I've scoured this house - top to bottom, and I don't think this cat pissed or shit anywhere - and that's impressive.
My adrenaline rush wore off, and I finally let the dog in, finished lunches, got in the shower and carried on. You know, just another day in the life. There is NEVER a dull moment in this house.
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