Incidents and Accidents

I'm having a nice relaxing shower, when the usual thing happens. I start hearing things going on in the house that mean trouble. I hear dishes in the sink rattling. I yell, "SOX, GET OUT OF THE SINK!" Usually, that would do it, I'd yell once and the rattling would stop. Not this time.

Since I have four cats, you may wonder how I know which one is the culprit. Oh, they all have their little quirks. Sox likes to get up in the sink, and sniff the fresh air coming in the two inch opening of the kitchen window. He just can't help himself. And it never seems to matter what's in the way. Dishes in the sink, vases arranged nicely on the window sill, none of it matters. None of it exists. He just knows he can get his nose to a little bit of fresh air. Did I mention he's a bit of a tank? He's huge, and he just crashes over dishes to get to the outside air that is like crack to him.

This time my yelling doesn't work. At all. In fact the rattling got a lot louder, as if someone were stirring the dishes with a baseball bat. I didn't know what's happening, but nothing good, I'm guessing. There goes my shower.

I'm out and dripping wet, when I hear more pandemonium, this time in the living room. Commotion is not unusual in my household at all, in fact it's pretty much expected. But there is something different about this. On a scale of one to ten, five being normal, this is more like an eight. (an eight can mean that someone  rung the doorbell, which is a pretty serious incident.)

I get my towel, and step out of the bathroom just in time to see Bitzy, my black and white Rat Terror, jumping straight up in the air! And this is not the normal Bitzy jump - she sometimes aims for the top of the couch and misses (I hear a thud, she hits the floor). This is some kind of circus jump, where she is up near the ceiling! The ceiling! My dog can fly now? What on earth . . . ? And not just Bitzy, but the four cats are all worked up too. They are all puffed up and running back and forth frantically, all eyes on . . . the drapes? What do animals care about drapes? Oh GEEZ. 

At the top of the drapes, there it is. A SQUIRREL is running back and forth for all it's worth! The squirrel is in a world of panic, and moving so fast I can barely see it, which is what they do when they get stuck in your house. They don't stop and think about how they should get out, they just go as fast as they can to avoid being caught, and possibly dismembered by the raging cats and dog they've blundered into. And to be fair, they don't have the biggest brains.

I, on the other hand, completely freeze while I ponder what to do first. I should probably put clothes on. Yes. I will put on clothes. I don't remember getting dressed, but evidently I have. The next thing I know, I'm back in the living room, watching the squirrel run laps across the top of my sheer drapes. He's going so fast, I expect them to disintegrate  in a matter of seconds, and they will just drop to the floor, like something out of a 

Roadrunner cartoon. He looks just like a little buzz saw, going back and forth, his little legs a blur. I am imagining buzz saw noises.

I should have seen this coming, I really should have. There have been days when I've opened the curtain behind my computer to see a squirrel chattering at me, and glaring at me as if I'd murdered his cousin. It's not as if there's an actual ledge or anything for them to stand on, either. They just hang there, at an impossible  angle, impatiently waiting for you to let them in. I've seen them walk straight up and down walls too, which I find as unnatural as vampires. And yes, I'd seen them at the kitchen window as well. It just hadn't occurred to 

me that they would actually come inside.

Okay, I'm dressed, what am I supposed to do next? Believe it or not, I won't panic, because believe it or not, this has happened to me before. I have had a panicked, crazy-ass squirrel running loose in my house. And what did I do before? I left a window open so it could escape. Okay, that is what I will do again. But I had less pets that last time. If I do that, what will prevent all five of my rabid pets from following it right out the door? I will have to gather up the dog and cats and isolate them from the squirrel. I'm going for Bitzy the dog first, 

mostly because I'm tired of listening to her insane yapping. What a racket that dog can make.

It's amazing how hard it can be to pick up a nine pound dog. She weighs practically nothing, yet she is filled with so much adrenaline, I might as well try to lift my own body weight, and drag it into another room. And there is no reasoning with her. Bitzy, stop it!! Calm down!! Pshaw. I might as well be talking to the dining room table. At least it would appear to be listening. I grab up her squirming body and wrestle her out of the room. I can't even walk straight - she is twisting and turning like a high speed washing machine, her stiff little giraffe 

legs bicycling wildly, and still barking her head off. I put her in Alli's room, (which actually is Bitzy's room, we just call it Alli's room) and shut the door. Whew. That should calm things down considerably.

HAHAHAHA. I am left with four hysterical hissing cats, and one traumatized squirrel. Since Bodhi is the smallest and easiest kitty to catch, and actually likes being picked up under normal circumstances, I'll go for her first. All of the cats have formed a circle, growling and hissing. Mostly they are under the table, so I have to move the heavy, screeching furniture. (This does nothing to improve the squirrel's disposition) I get Bodhi fairly easily, but she insists on being carried over my shoulder, and then digs her claws in to climb over onto 

my back. I've never understood her reasoning about this. Once she's on my back, she's upside down, and has to dig in even more to hang on. I manage to pry her loose, which sounds a little like velcro, and stick her in the bathroom.

But darn, I need to give the squirrel a way out, in case he does try to make a run for it. I open the front door, and the storm door. Surely all that fresh air will be irresistible to a squirrel. Then the storm door  slowly.  starts.  to.  close.  itself.  For crying out loud! It's one of those handy doors that closes itself every time, so you don't have to. What genius had come up with that idea? I need to prop it open with something. I open the front coat closet and am faced with the mountain of things that inhabit the closet. There has to be something that will 

work in this mess. A hiking boot, that should do it. I have to yank for a little bit, but I get t out from under a pile of stuff, and stick it in the front door.

Nooooooo, the door is still closing! And it's mangling my boot in the process! Surely the boot will regain it's   shape someday? The things I worry about when there is a squirrel fast-forwarding around my dining room. Okay, the door is open, maybe I can sort of steer him out of the house with a broom? I get the broom, and by this time, he has dropped down to the window sill.  Let me just say this: neither a broom or anything else can 

be used to herd a squirrel. He's about a foot from the floor by then, within easy reach of the cats. He stops to rest for a second in the corner, his little heart pounding. He looks terrified, and he's so little! Such a wee thing, he must be a baby. I feel really bad for him, and start baby talking to him about how he just needs to calm down and go outside.

Easy for me to say, when he is surrounded by cats that are all four or five times his size. Time to round up some more cats. I get Punji the Bengal, who is the oldest and least likely to put up a fight. But she is heavy, dang, and her lack of struggling makes her dead weight. I put her in the bathroom with whoever else was in there. When I come back out, the squirrel has jumped up onto my mantel. Oh great! There goes everything up there, I think, framed pictures, glass vases and candle holders. But to my amazement, when he runs back and 

forth, he doesn't disturb a thing. It's a very sophisticated obstacle course, and he has no trouble navigating at all. He is clearly smarter than all my cats put together.

I decide to open the back door as well, and give him two easy escape routes. The back door thankfully stays open when you tell it to. I still have two more cats to capture and isolate. I'll go for Lily, just out of process of elimination. Sox is more than a little bit psycho, and I would just as soon put him off till last, out of general principle. Maybe the squirrel could just leave first - Sox isn't too smart, so surely the silly rodent could come up with a plan to get around him. Got Lily. I put her in my bedroom while she voices her opinion loudly, in a meow 

that sounds like a cross between a goat and Stevie Nicks. I have to hold her straight out in front of me to keep the claws away. Has the baby squirrel left yet? Nope, he's back on the top of the drapes. So, I will occupy myself with the last cat, the big guy Sox, also known as Shredder. It's always safest to pick him up from behind so he doesn't see me coming. Otherwise he would just chew my arms off. I've got him under the 

armpits and picked up, facing away from me. I don't touch him anywhere else, because that just sets him off. For some reason, the underarm carry seems to subdue him. I've seen it in a mirror, too, and it's the most hilarious thing, all four of his legs splayed out of his meatloaf body, all poufed out like a puffer fish. Into my bedroom he goes, and I am all the while shouting encouraging baby talk to the squirrel.

Whoa! Out the corner of my eye I see the squirrel zoom into the kitchen. This could be really great, couldn't it, he could go out the back door! But what if he didn't? I didn't really see him leave, now did I? Darn it, how the heck am I going to know for sure? I will just wait, that's what I'll do. I'll leave the doors open, and fresh air will billow through the house. I'll enjoy airing out the house immensely. Hmm. How long would a squirrel hide in a house if he thinks he's safe, I wonder. He could be in the laundry room, a no man's land of appliances and a 

boiler and mops and brooms. I go in and make a ruckus, to try and flush him out. Nothing.

Well then. I will just spend the afternoon enjoying the fresh air until I have to leave. I hope desperately that he isn't making a nest inside my couch. Because a couch would be the perfect place for a nest, what with the stuffing and all. Later, as I lock up the house, the pets still quarantined, I look over and see a huge gray cat 

sniffing curiously at my house. Well! Isn't this just dandy! While I'm worried about one squirrel, all manner of neighborhood strays, hoards of other squirrels, and yes, even a snake could waltz right into my house. Birds could have flown in! I could have a regular Hitchcock movie! There is no way I could watch both doors, now could I? I've for sure let in a ton of spiders.

Bitzy's Great Escape

Today was the perfect day for an afternoon nap. It was quiet, and all four cats were asleep, leaving no one to torment me in my quest for sleep. Just looking at them, all curled up, warm and fuzzy, with the blissful expressions that belie what monsters they actually are . . .  I just couldn't pass up the chance. Who knows when this could happen again? Normally at least one of them would be doing something insanely annoying. The atmosphere of sleep was so pervasive, I was drowsy just looking at them.

A generous amount of naptime later, I began dreaming about a dog barking. It was ever so quiet, as if the dog were miles away, and I could barely hear it. Now, in the original dream I was having, there were no barking dogs. I was hiding from aliens. Eventually though, the barking gradually got louder, and began to disturb the plot of my alien story. The barking was still quiet though. I mumbled to myself in my dream, "That sounds a little like Bitzy". I began thinking more in my dream, and the aliens went away quietly, much to my relief.

Now I'm still sound asleep here, but instead of dreaming, I'm in a complete fog of stupidity about the barking dog. I'm not real smart in my sleep.

Hm. That really does sound like Bitzy. But it can't be, cause she's not far away like that. She's right here in the house, and probably asleep. And she'd be barking really loud if she was in the house, and I'd be jumping out of my skin. And anyway, how would she even have gotten out? Nah, it's not her. But the funny thing is, that dog is getting a little louder. Is it because I'm waking up just a little because there is a real dog barking somewhere? Or is there a dog just getting closer in my dream and I'm still dreaming? Either way, whatever is happening, the dog is getting louder. And that dog sounds exactly like Bitzy. Maybe it's just some other dog that sounds like her, because I really can't wake up right now, no matter how hard I want to.


CRAP. I need to wake up. Even if it's not Bitzy, I need to know for sure. It's really unlikely that another dog sounds like her yippy little Rat Terrier self. I really, really need to wake up. The dog is getting louder. For cryin' out loud, it sounds EXACTLY like her. And it doesn't sound like she's in the back yard, where she should be. The sound is coming from the front of the house. WAKE UP WAKE UP gosh darn it, I can't open my eyes. If my eyes could just open, I could maybe move my limbs. I'm asleep!!! I can't move anything. Crap crap crap.


Finally, my eyes unglued themselves and opened into little slits. I'm awake now, even if I can't move and now I know that's gotta be my dog out there. That's her annoying little yippy bark all right, with the strange combination of fierce gutteral growling. I don't even know how she manages those two sounds at once. Yup, she's after something, and that's not her Squirrel bark, either. That's her Human bark, and it's the Big Scary Guy bark, and she's gonna chew the leg off some big scary guy if she can just get hold of him. I manage to drag myself on my belly a few inches to my curtains, and pull them aside just in time to see our mail carrier, right in front of my house! And he is definitely a Big Guy, and therefore doubly evil, wearing that uniform and all. And there is Bitzy herding him, running around him in circles and barking her head off. For crying out loud!!! I've probably been hearing her for miles! That's why it was quiet for so long!! If it weren't so appalling, it would be funny - her little black and white Rat Terror self, with every molecule of her body in attack mode - going in a circle around the mailman, and she is about the size of one of his shoes.

I have to get her right now!! Before she's gone with the mail guy, down the block, and probably into his car with him. Not that he'll want her, but she'll most likely not take no for an answer. What do you think they do with dogs that insist on coming to the post office? Wow, then she'd really have a ton of postal workers to bark at. Problem is, I still can't really move right at all. This is like trying to move through ten feet of water. I have.   to get.   out.   of.   the.   bed.  I slide off, and land somewhat on my feet, still hanging onto the bed covers so I don't end up on a pile on the floor. Gotta get to the front door. Wait. I need pants. Where are my pants? Why didn't I put on pajama pants? I seriously can't go to the door in my underwear, not if I have to chase a dog down the street. How am I going to chase a dog in my sleep?

There they are, in a wad on the floor. Looking at those pants, nothing has ever seemed so difficult as getting to them, and getting them on. Why are they so far away?? Much less get the dog. Maybe the mail guy would like having a dog. Well, judging by the look on his face, probably not so much. But he might have to help me get her. I really, really need those pants. I staggered sideways back and forth across the bedroom floor, swept them up in a drunken motion, and stuck one leg in. I proceeded to hop around in a panic, trying to get the leg all the way in and down to the floor. I hopped all the way to the front door going in circles, and manage to have both legs in and pulled them up with my left hand, just as I opened the door with my right hand.

There was the Big Mail Guy, right in front of me. Right there in front of my door. I have all my pajamas on and all, (it's about three in the afternoon)  but my hair is pretty sure to be sticking out in all directions, and I have a half asleep crazed look in my eyes. He'd probably have been surprised at the timing of me opening the door right on him, had his nerves not been completely frayed by my Rat Terror. I know how she can erase your brain pretty quickly. He's being pretty careful not to look at me. I opened the outer glass door to get the dog in, praying that she will obey, instead of taking off down the street, which is a distinct possibility.
I'm SO SORRY BITZY GET IN HERE!!!


Miraculously, she does decide to come in the house, and zooms past my feet. Without missing a beat, the mailman mutters how it's fine, and keeps he going as fast as his feet can carry him.
Oh Dear God! It wasn't fine!! How long did that poor man have to listen to my dog, and how many people probably stopped dead in their tracks to watch the whole business? What if he's on Youtube by now? What kept him from drop kicking her across the street?  How will I ever face him again? He's a really nice mail guy too. He didn't deserve that at all, and now I'll be too embarrassed to even look at him.  Maybe he'll quit, and I'll never see him again. I'm pretty sure he doesn't want to see my dog. Or I'll hide for six months or so, and then pretend to be someone else who moved in.

So Bitzy trots in the house, with her little Hot Shot walk, black and white tail in the air, right past me, not even the least bit contrite.


Bitzy!! Bad Dog!! 

She looks over her shoulder at me for maybe three seconds, faking a little guilty cringe. Then she plops herself down, panting after all the hard work of policing the neighborhood. She grins when she pants, which is utterly maddening right now. She's sitting there grinning, and nothing I say to her makes one little bit of difference.

In her mind she has saved the day. She has protected not only her house and all its cats, but the entire block. Maybe even several blocks! (from the sound of it, it may have been several miles) She's not hearing one word I say about how she could have been run over, or eaten by a bigger dog. Much less drop kicked by a postman.

Ah well, might as well let her have her day.