I started the day as I do often – checking my clients’ Facebook pages “real quick” and getting sucked in for a couple hours. So I didn’t get around to showering until midmorning. The Boy had been gone for hours. Obi decided to head to the basement with me.
When I got out of the shower, though, someone was upstairs. I could hear them walking. Big steps. Bigger than Obi’s. Bigger than The Boy’s.
My heart pounded. I listened. Clump clump clump.
Breaking land speed records, I threw on some clothes and ran a brush through my hair. After all, there was a chance this wasn’t going to be a murderer. Ratted hair allowed to dry, though, would be a true catastrophe.
I listened as I did all this. Clump clump clump.
Heart pounding.
Finally, it was time to cowboy up and leave the basement. I rounded the corner to go down the hall toward the stairs. A grey cat jumped out of the laundry room. A big, fluffy grey cat.
Not Oliver.
He came at me.
It was Obi. Apparently he fell behind the washing machine. He had a six inch radius of lint attached to every inch of his body. It took ten minutes of serious brushing to make him small and brown again. Oh, and a ten pound kitten trapped behind a washing machine?
Goes clump clump clump.
Kitten Thunder: Life lessons and cat tales 