You know those scenes in
scary movies when people are awoken by strange noises and the husband goes to
investigate with a baseball bat and gets chopped up by an ax murderer? Well, if we got up to investigate every thump and crash,
we’d never get any sleep. The cats come
alive after our bedtime and create a variety of curious sounds, many of which
we probably should check into but just don’t have the energy.
At
least once a night there is a stampede overhead. It’s the decibel equivalent of three
full-grown elephants running at full steam through the bedrooms. How can 2-3 fluffy little creatures create
that much racket?
There
is also the screeching and howling of one good cat fight, random crashes (we’ll
just sweep up the glass in the morning—if we can find it), and the creak of
doors opening (all but Toby are capable of getting into closed rooms).
About
the only sounds that still get our attention are running water (never a good sign) and the ominous chord
of a cat jumping onto the low end of a piano.
The chord is usually startling enough to give me heart palpitations and
it’s always followed by the dissonant scales of paws running up the keys and a
final high pitched bang as the cat jumps onto the top of the
piano. From there the cat can bat down any number of items.
Usually we
try to ignore the commotion until morning when we can face the path of destruction
with renewed patience. Not all things
that go bump in the night are harmful, some are just irritating.
On this night, Finnegan is the culprit |
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