Early one Saturday morning I awoke to a curious scraping sound at 1:10 am. At first I thought it was a nightmare and since I didn’t’ hear it again right away I plopped back down onto my pillow. It didn’t take but a minute or so until I heard it again. Scrape, scrape, scraaaaaaaape. I leaned over and peeked out the window, half expecting to see Freddie Cruger from “Nightmare on Elm Street” staring back at me, flicking a bladed hand in the moonlight. But to my relief, Freddie was nowhere in sight. I thought “What in the world could that be? I got up to investigate and noticed it seemed to be coming from the bathroom. As I crept through the doorway it continued. All at once I felt a lump in my throat and a sudden wrenching feeling deep in the pit of my stomach as I heard “Meeeowww”.
None of the cats were my idea and I certainly didn’t want this one, but guess who got to go out in the middle of the night and fish this little terrorist out of the tree? You guessed it…the stupid guy. So tonight, “Prissy” (translation: Demonious Catious) had somehow found her way into the attic and now had herself stuck in the wall of our bathroom!
Somewhat panicked I quickly and quietly tried to get dressed. I don’t know if you have ever been half asleep and attempted to put on baggy pajama bottoms with a flash light in your hand but it isn’t easy. I got my leg stuck, hopped on one leg for about three hops and crashed into my hanging clothes in the closet. It hurt, but I was more worried about waking my wife Toni and to my surprise she never stirred. (I think she was awake but ignored me.) Now sweating, heart racing, and without a clue as to where the cat really was, I made my way out the back door and downstairs. Mack, our Labrador, decided that we were going to chase critters and came flying by me, nearly putting me on my back again. I thought to myself, “This might be a really bad idea. Maybe I should just let the cat find her own way out.” I took a few more steps and noticed I had my pajamas on backwards. Go figure.
After about twenty minutes of stomping through the dew covered back yard, travelling back and forth from the basement entrance and the garage, I found myself no closer to finding the little furry Freddy Cruger wannabe. I decided to crawl under the house in an attempt to locate her without waking Toni. This meant low crawling in the dirt and spider webs so you can imagine how frustrated I was becoming. My first trip across the cold dirty basement produced zilch, nothing, not even a hint of a cat, so I crawled back out and headed back to the garage where I finally heard her little demon voice once again.
I trounced up and down, back and forth trying to locate the little snot but she kept moving . I was in the grass, in the basement, in the garage, back in the grass, three or four times before I decided to just leave her there. By the time I got back out of the basement for the fourth time, Toni and Tiffoni, my oldest daughter, were standing on the deck looking at me as if I were a certified loony tune. I thought to myself as I peered up at my two judges, “So much for just leaving the little beady eyed devil where she was. Heck I am going to sleep in the truck.” “What are you doing now?” Toni asked with an indignant tone. After she finished interrogating me with a couple of dozen questions, all of which implied that I somehow had something to do with the whole thing, she paused to take a breath.
“Meeeow”. The cat had made her way down the overhang and was now in the siding right behind Toni. You would have thought the house was on fire. “Get her out, get her out, get her out!” she screamed as she started banging on the wall. I yelled back, “Let me get the ladder!” happy that the focus had shifted off of me.
About twenty minutes later I had ripped a chunk of siding off the house, had insulation falling on me like snow, and had cut my hand in about five places, and was beginning to develop a number of cramps in my back, legs, and most notably in my brain. I stuck my head up through the hole I had made and was somewhat shocked to see a bug-eyed grey fuzz covered demon of a cat staring at me as if I was holding up her next hair appointment. “Here kitty kitty kitty” I said one more time as I teetered on top of the ladder, hand outstretched. “Nope” she seemed to say, “You’re not good enough” and refused to move. She was just laying there like a knot on a log, seemingly very proud of herself.
In my mind’s eye I could imagine the little demonic furball quietly laughing at me while whispering “Just go to sleep!” in a tone that Freddie Cruger himself would find eerie. That was it! “Toni, you get her. I am done. She can stay up there for all I care,” I said.
Toni was able to coax the little snot out far enough to grab her, but I was giggling inside just a little when the cat latched onto her hip and refused to let go. Hey, why should I be the only one with scars right? When the ordeal was finally over we were both scratched up and worn out. When we made it back to bed the last thing I remember Toni saying was “Bless her little heart.” I just rolled my eyes, sighed and pulled the covers over my head. “I can think of something other to bless besides her heart.”
God has a funny way of showing us the comedy in our lives. Although I didn’t laugh much that day I can look back now and laugh, knowing that He has tried to get me out of some difficult situations only to have me refuse to do the right thing and save myself. I guess how we see our current situation depends on our perspective but He always has his arm stretched out to help us. I am going to try in the future not to scratch His arm up so he can get me out of the attic. Thank you for reading and for your comments.
Anyone need a cat?