My aunt and uncle had cats. I’ve had friends who’ve had cats. I can’t have cats.
They creep me out. Sometimes.
One of those times happened Sunday night. It was dark, and I was heading out to the back yard to roll the garbage cans out to the street for garbage pickup when I saw a shadow dart under one of the cars in the driveway.
It creeped me out a little, but I continued my task. I’d figured it was a cat the way it moved, so I didn’t think much of it.
On the way back, I saw its partner in the yard. Dismissed it as coincidence.
Later in the evening, I had to take some more garbage out to the cans on the street, to I went out the front door. The second cat I’d seen, an orange tabby, was rooting in the bed at the front of the house. I dropped off the trash and headed back to the front door. I tried to scare the critter, but he/she was having none of that.
I kept peeking outside throughout the night. At first, I saw them across the street, but they were sort of spread apart, one closer to the street, the other more off to the side close to the undeveloped natural area.
They were staring at the house.
I called Susan to show them to her. Don’t worry about it she said.
Later, I checked again.
They were sitting next to each other looking at the house.
I went about my business and about 20 minutes later came back.
They were sitting next to each other in the middle of the street, staring at each other.
I called Susan again.
We both had a Stephen King moment.
For the rest of the night, I had the creeps. All I could imagine was waking up with a fat orange tabby sitting on my chest and sucking the life out of me.
It didn’t happen.
I haven’t seen the cats since. I told Lex about it and he thinks that their strange behavior may be the result of them having kittens nearby.
Well, they can have all the kittens they want. As long as they don’t try to give me cat-scratch fever or take the kids away. Or try to suck the life out of us all.