3/12/99

We discover our true selves in the face of a crisis....

This morning the Critter In My Ceiling promoted himself to Critter In The Living Room. He was a very small critter indeed, not more than an inch long, though his tail might have been three times that. He made so much noise in the ceiling, I was sure he was at least a squirrel or something, but, no, he's just a clueless little bastard. I mean, I have a cat. And everything.

So I was minding my own business, chilling out on the couch, dropping tiny plastic beads into a suncatcher frame and watching "The View" when I heard Julia's toenails wreaking havoc on the linoleum in the kitchen. I thought, "Jungle Cat! Ha-ha!" Then I thought, "A little early today...she doesn't usually morph into Jungle Cat until later." And then, "Maybe I should..." but they were in the living room by then, poor little brown mouse darting back, forth, doh! caught, doh! dropped, batted, drop-kicked, around and back again, into the kitchen and they both disappeared. Scratch-scratch through the kitchen, thump-thump-thud down the stairs. Then I realized I was screeching.

I wish I could say I handled this like a man. Alas. I slammed the doors to the bedrooms and the bathroom, threw open the outside door on the off chance that Julie would chase him right on out, and gingerly tiptoed to the basement. I found my cat crouched in front of a sports bra on the floor. (eww, ewww, throw it away, ewww.) She grinned at me and batted the bra gently, and watched her toy skitter out and across the carpet. I commenced hysterical-woman shrieking and ran into the next room where I've stored the empty cardboard move-in boxes. (See, I knew those would come in handy.)

There followed a game, a bonding session between my cat and me. Never mind that I was bellowing at her the whole time. The two of us cornered the little guy and swept him right into the box, then I stopped playing fair and I took the box and ran upstairs, no longer sharing with Julia. Paced frantically, called a humane pest control company, and then got dressed to take him to his brand new home. (dumpster behind a mini-mart.)

Just before I left the house I realized there was someone I needed to thank. I found her crouched sadly in her litter box. I waited politely for her to forgive me, then I told her what a brave and fearless cat she was, and what on earth would I do without her?