Sunday, August 01, 2010

One Dark Night

I don't remember how I stumbled across this blog, but Suebob is hilarious.

Her mouse-that-refused-to-die post reminded me of a story.

A long time ago,

In a land far, far away?


A long time ago, or at least, beyond recent memory. Right here at the old home place, kiddo's cat died.

Don't worry about Fat Pete. He lives and eats on. This was the much beloved Fat Pete's much beloved predecessor.

So, the cat died by car.

(Which explains why Fat Pete doesn't get to go outside, but I digress.)

One night, shortly thereafter, in the middle of the night, I hear stealthy quiet foot steps on the carpet. I turn on the light.

Nothing. Nada. No one.

Lights out.

In a few minutes, I hear those same quiet foot steps on the carpet.

Lights on.


So, I wake up Dearest, who, it is well-known, could sleep through a nuclear device being detonated on our front lawn.

I'm being haunted by a ghost cat, I tell him.

Now, I betcha, of all the things we wake up our spouses in the middle of the night to say, I'm being haunted by a ghost cat, must rate a ten on the Say What scale.

Not to my Honey Bunny.

He says -- there is no such thing as a ghost cat, and if there was such a thing as a ghost cat, you could not hear it walking on carpet.

And he goes back to sleep.

Oh really.

Lights out, but this time I don't try to go back to sleep. I lie there, clutching a flashlight to my chest like famous personage lying in state clutching a lily in cold dead hands.

Shortly comes the stealthy, quiet foot steps on the carpet. Then tap, tap, tap.

I snap on the flashlight, shine it toward the sliding closet door, where I see illuminated, not a ghost cat but a live mouse.

But not just any mouse.


Mouse-Zilla carrying a Milk Bone dog biscuit, and the tapping noise is Mouse-Zilla trying to force the dog biscuit horizontally through a vertical opening of the closet door.

The whole house is awakened by screams.

Dearest sets a mouse trap and goes back to sleep.

Really, I ask you, what is it with men?

Not me, baby. I stay awake wondering, where did the Milk Bone come from? Who was it for? Baby-Zillas or something larger?

Was King Kong bigger than Godzilla? I can't remember.



Wake Dearest up again.

Corpse-Zilla unceremoniously disposed of in the garbage in the garage.

And then.

And then.

The husband goes back to sleep without commenting on the auditory acuity of someone who can hear a mouse walk across carpet.

A fact, which seems to me, should be noted in scholarly articles and record books somewhere.


  1. What needs to be noted in the annals of the miraculous is that said Dearest did not commit mayhem upon the personage of the Mouse Sensor upon the third awakening. Truly a person of deep boundless love (or a need for sleep greater than a need for revenge). How long can you sleep with one eye open?

  2. Ha! After 36 years, he's used to me.


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