In the early morning darkness I stood at the top step of my basement stairs, my empty arms extended in front of me like a mummy who had just awoken from a long sleep, wearing nothing but my undies (that is a conversation for another time). I tried to make sense of the situation as blood trickled from the fresh scratches on my stomach. I could only ponder in myvmind what could have been done differently.

It all started innocently enough, I had awoken around 4:30 that morning, which was not unusual for me. While everyone else in my family could sleep eight to twelve hours if the situation called for it, I tended to take sleep in small chunks and no matter what time I went to bed the night before I would wake up at approximately the same time without the aid of an alarm. In fact I could not remember the last time I had ever slept the government recommended eight hours. This day happened to be a Saturday, I was scheduled to work that morning from seven until eleven. My wife had plans to attend a Women’s conference at an area church. After awakening I sat up on the edge of the bed and allowed my brain to fully engage and emerge from its slumber.

Before we get any further in this narrative something needs to be addressed. It has to do with the type of attire that I wear to bed. You might be asking yourself what this has to do with anything else in the story, but I assure you as it progresses to its climax it will become abundantly clear. While most people wear shorts and/ or a t-shirt to bed I would rather just stick with the basics -translation, my tighty whiteys. The feel of a night shirt and athletic shorts always felt too constrictive under the covers and I have felt more comfortable without that extra layer. Now that we gotten that out of the way lets move on.

I slowly stood up by the side of the bed and once fully in control of my faculties, exited the bedroom. As I stepped out of the bedroom door something caught my attention. It wasn’t necessarily a noise as such but some kind of movement or disturbance in the darkness. Metaphysically you might describe it as a disturbance in the force or the natural state of things, even though I couldn’t here or see anything I instinctively knew something was awry. It seemed to be coming from ourvdaughters’ bedroom at the opposite end of the hall.

Before checking on what this disturbance in the force was, I noticed that the kitchen light was on. My kids would sometimes stay up later than Mom and Dad or maybe get up during the night to get a drink. Either way they had a bad habit of leaving lights on when they went to bed. I made a mental note to address that at a later time. MY attention now was on my daughters’ bedroom. I turned on the hall light and walked toward the daughters open bedroom door. I approached the door and leaned in through the opening trying to focus my eyes in the darkness. As I scanned the room I picked up some movement deeper into the room. As my mind tried to comprehend what I was seeing I saw something rather small and compact bursting toward me from the darkness. Whatever it was it did not have much size to it. It was rather small, compact, and low to the ground. As it flew past me and down the hall I suddenly realized what it was. It was the family cat, Smokey: He was the family pet, a tomcat the whole family loved. He was a charcoal grey with some white spots scattered about his body. He had longer, beautiful fur that he always kept immaculate. His disposition was normally very calm and laid back, but apparently the site of me standing in the semi darkness of the doorway in the aforementioned sleeping attire had spooked him.

He bolted past the me like a criminal who had just posted bond and after thinking about the situation decided he would be better off running than waiting around for trial. I quickly pivoted around just in time to see Smokey round the corner into the Living Room, I quickly took off in pursuit. As I rounded the corner I saw Smokey make a hard right into the Dining room area. I followed the cat into the Dining Room only to discover the cat was no where in sight. Amazed by the disappearing act I surveyed the area and quickly surmised that Smokey had for whatever reason ran downstairs through the open door at the top of the stairs. I descended the stairs, all the while pondering why the cat was so intent on running from me. As far as I knew I had always treated the cat with respect and kindness. I, unlike some people, actually liked most cats and dogs equally.

At the bottom of the stairs I turned on the ceiling can lights since I, unlike cats, could not see very well in the darkness. Looking around the Family Room there was no cat in site. I worked my way to the back of the room toward the door that went to the Toy/ Game Room, not really knowing why I had a feeling Smokey had went back there. As I turned on the lights and looked around I spied the cat hunkered down and staring at me across the room. It wasn’t a normal stare like you might see from someone who was watching someone in public trying to figure out what another person was doing. No, this stare was a terrified look made all the more striking by the size of Smokies eyes. His eyes were the size of nickels and the pupils were dilated as large as they could be. He almost had the look of someone who had just spotted the serial killer who was stalking him and realized he was trapped and had no where to run.

Seeing the heightened state of anxiety that Smokey was exhibiting the I quietly started talking to him and slowly approached the cat. All the while the cat never took his eyes off me. I finally got close enough and the cat allowed me to pick him up. For whatever reason I held the cat out in front of me in my outstretched arms away from my body and softly spoke to him trying to calm him down. I slowly turned to exit the room, all the while holding the cat out in front of me with its body hanging down from my two hands. What concerned me the most was that no matter how softly and reassuringly I spoke to Smokey all I received in return was this saucer eyed stare like you might see from a drug addled junky.

To a casual observer who might have stumbled onto this it would have been a site to behold: a tall, pasty white, “slightly” over weight man wearing nothing but his underwear walking through the house carrying a cat between his extended hands and talking to it in a quiet, soothing voice.

But I digress, back to the story. I slowly made my way back through the Family Room to the base of the stairs. I made a right hand turn and slowly headed up the fifteen steps to the top. I mention the fifteen steps because by choosing to take the stairs I passed on an opportunity to use the patio door in the basement, which was less than ten steps from the base of the stairs, to put the cat outside. It was brought to my attention later, by by my loving and helpful wife, that it would have been a smarter choice. It only goes to show you that in our lives we make decisions every day that in hindsight can make our lives easier or harder. Those extra five steps were about to make my life very difficult. As I approached the top of the stairs I continued talking to Smokey. I felt that I was in the homestretch and the cat would soon be outside where he belonged and I could prepare for the day. Just as my foot stepped onto to the hardwood floor, things took a turn for the worse. The cat who had limply been hanging from the my hands on this little trek, and staring back at me, suddenly turned into the Tasmanian Devil. In the blink of an eye the cat was gone and I stood at the top of the stairs empty-handed with blood beginning to trickle from the freshly inflicted scratches on my abdomen and arms.

As my mind began to grasp what had just transpired I saw Smokey hit the floor and scoot into the Kitchen. I followed in hot pursuit, my adrenaline pumping. The cat had crossed the line and it had become my mission in life at this point to make sure that the cat was evicted from the premises post haste, no more mister nice guy.

As I entered the Kitchen I noticed the door to Garage was standing open about six to eight inches. One of the kids must have left it open when they went to bed. I later deduced that was how the cat was able to get into the house during the night. A mental note was made to address that later also. Seeing the door ajar I hoped that the cat had seen it also and exited to the outside. My hopes were dashed when I heard clattering noises coming from the Laundry Room which was just off the Kitchen. As I entered the Laundry Ivspied the cat on the counter top pacing frantically back and forth in front of the window.

When he spied me he became more agitated and began to increase his pacing. I had enough of these antics and quickly approached Smokey to grab him and end this. As I approached the cat I was surprised by a sudden sideways move by the feline. Instead of trying to run by me and out of the room he lunged sideways knocking bottles and other items all over the counter. He lunged down into the space behind the washer and dryer. Trapped behind the appliances with no where to go except up, where I waited, looking down at him like the giant in that fable with the boy and his magic beans, the cat hunkered down just out of reach of my clawing hands. I tried to reach down and grab the wayward cat to no avail. Needless to say I was frustrated at this point and wanted this whole debacle to be over as quickly as possible. A broom leaning against the wall caught my eye and a decision was quickly made. I grabbed the broom and without any concern for what it might do to the cat, stuck it behind the washer and dryer and started swinging it wildly back and forth, banging against the walls and the back of the appliances. It had its desired effect and the cat jumped up and ran out of the Landry Room into the Kitchen and disappeared.

I gathered himself and entered the Kitchen. There was no cat in sight so I assumed it had run into the Kitchen and exited into the Garage. I closed the door and went back to my daughters’ bedroom to check on things. Using the light from the hallway shining through her open door Ibnoticed something on the floor. The cat for whatever reason had left a “deposit” on the carpet in the middle of the room. Not wanting my wife to discover this and have to clean it up before she went to her Women’s conference that morning I got the necessary supplies and cleaned the carpet. I then showered, dressed for work and headed out to get some breakfast before heading in.

Later that morning I called home to check on things. My mother-in law answered. She was watching the kids while my wife was at her conference. I relayed the story of what all had transpired earlier that morning. I was curious if she could check and see in the daylight if the carpet had been cleaned sufficiently. She made her way to the bedroom with the portable phone while they spoke. As she entered the bedroom I heard her exclaim that not only was the carpet not clean but there was a fresh deposit and the cat was laying on the bed. Apparently when I thought it had exited the house earlier it had in fact ran back into the house, made its way to the bedroom after I had left for work, and left me a treat as a sign of its appreciation………………………