Scaredy Cat

Last Thursday Neil installed a new washer and dryer in our basement. Thank goodness because our dyer was taking an extremely long time to dry the clothing. (I know I know the Amish don‘t have clothing dryers.) In fact for one load it could take up to three hours to finish. That isn’t convenient when you have seven people in the house with places to go and people to see and you aren‘t comfortable leaving the house with the dryer on. The thing was also making a piercing screech with each turn that was most likely causing some hearing loss to the aforementioned seven people. Not only that, it was also ripping clothing to shreds! Poor Em was missing a strap on one of her camisoles, some of Allyson’s little socks looked more like tassels than socks, and last week I accidentally threw a bra in there and when I opened the dryer, only half of it was left. Huh? We definitely needed a new one.

The next day I began catching up on laundry in our new machine. I came back upstairs to check my emails as I listened to Allyson and her friend Kate happily coloring at the dining room table. I adore listening to the two girls chat. “Look Ally, a cat!” Kate proclaimed. We have this scary looking cat that roams the neighborhood. He is very large with what looks like a lions mane surrounding it‘s face. It also has the most evil eyes I have ever seen. When I encounter this cat (even through the window) I immediately get the chills…he is that creepy. It is a feral cat and once and a while he hangs out in the driveway next door and plays with the dead animals that he hunts. The kids are completely fascinated by it. When Kate repeated, “Look at the cat Ally!” I assumed that the scary cat was at it again. As I got up from my seat Kate sweetly calls, “Kellyyyy a caaaaat.” I step into the dining room and I completely freeze. My eyes are caught in the defiant stare of the cat that is INSIDE the house!

“Girls, you need to come with me,” I calmly take their hands and usher them to the stairs and close the door behind them. Meanwhile inside my head I am thinking, holy crap! How did this cat get in here and how do I get him out!!!!!!! “You girls stay upstairs,” I assure them, “and I will let you know when it’s okay to come down.”

Promptly, I shut all of the doors as the cat ran into the back hall. Shaking from head to toe I begin to pace around like a lunatic talking to myself as I attempt to figure out what to do next. On impulse, I call Neil. (I am fully aware that this was a wimpy thing to do, but I was petrified.) Neil agrees to come home to help (he is ten minutes away). I take a deep breath and decide to peek into the back hall. I cringe at the thought of approaching the ferocious feline, but I wanted to try and get him out by myself. (I guess I was embarrassed that I called Neil…I am such a girl!) Much to my relief, the basement door was open and he escaped down there. Quickly, I open the door to the outside and block the kitchen door with the trash barrel. I needed to physically witness the beast leave. Since I was fairly certain I could do this, I decided to call Neil back.

“Neil,” I whisper as to not startle the cat as it edged its way back up the stairs, “I think I am okay, you don’t have to come.” Neil replies, “Why are you whispering?” He must have conjured up an image of me trembling in a corner somewhere. As he is speaking to me the cat creeps even closer, his fur was standing straight up. He stopped at the very top and glared at me with those menacing eyes as if to say, Lady I will pounce on you and rip your face off if you take one more step. I stood my ground, trash barrel in one hand, phone in the other.

“Kelly! Kelly!” Neil calls through the phone.

I pause before murmuring, “He’s looking at me Neil I am scared, but I think…..” I whisper even softer, not wanting to startle the cat. Just then the beast makes a break for me, but I block him with the barrel and then he bolts outside!

“He’s out!” I shout. “I did it! Neil thanks for being there for me!”

I was still shaking when I went upstairs to tell the girls the coast was clear. They had forgotten all about the cat and had moved on to playing with the stuffed animals.

That nasty cat stuck with me for the remainder of the day. I later figured out that the cat must have snuck into the cellar when Neil was moving the new appliances in the day before. I felt lucky that he didn‘t jump out when the kids were down there, or when I was on the treadmill. Can you imagine?