I was nearly asleep last night – or maybe already asleep – and then halfway awakened by an almighty crash from Somewhere Downstairs (everything is downstairs from our bedroom). I heard DrBob out in the garden, calling Lilu, but I didn’t get up – usually, cat + crash = major clean-up, and after so many years as a wife and mother I’m less keen to volunteer for cleaning duty. I wait to be asked. Besides, I was all comfy.
Well this morning I got up, and there were coffee splatters in the kitchen and the cat-flap was Gone. The frame was still there, but the little flappy-thing was distinctly Not There. In its place was a hole, letting the November morning air into my kitchen, ack. I found the cat-flap out in the still-dark garden, in two pieces, and reassembled it with scotch tape and super glue, and then all I could do was go about my morning, and wait for DrBob to wake up and tell me what the HECK had happened.
It seems that DrBob surprised someone else’s cat in our kitchen – on the tiny sliver of counter that holds our cooking utensils and oils and vinegar and such, a sliver which has absolutely no place for a cat to stand. And instead of bolting out the back door, the furry imbecile bolted toward the front of the house, then up the stairs, and then all over the house before finding the kitchen again and blasting through the cat-flap so fast that he broke it in two pieces and knocked it out of its frame.
Drat it. DrBob has all the fun. Apparently even Lilu missed out, sound asleep on Ignatz’s bed.
Also, what on earth are we going to do about this stupid invader cat?
Song du jour of the day: Era Stupendo, by Paolo Meneguzzi