I creep towards the stairs. I lift my head and look towards the living room window. Our cat Madison hasn't noticed me. She is under the window. Her tail is wagging with vigour as little clucking sounds emanate from her mouth. The bird feeder must be very busy today.
|I would love to toss that Mourning Dove to the ground.|
I slowly get to my feet and quietly tiptoe up the carpeted stairs. As I reach the landing, one of the stairs makes a creaking sound. I stop. Beads of sweat appear on my forehead. I do not move for two minutes. Whew! That was close. I continue my ascent till I reach step # 14. The top stair. I did it. I have never made it this far unnoticed. I am giddy with success.
Wow! I could have been a CIA agent, an assassin, a burglar.
A cat burglar, but who steals cats anymore? I am good at this. I could teach classes. You just have to move slowly and not fall down too much. The moving slowly part is easy for senior citizens. The falling down thing, not so much.
Anyway….I continue to move slowly towards the bed which is only ten feet away. I glance back as I reach the corner of the bed. I move to the top of the bed and pull the sheets tight to get out any wrinkles. I must move quickly. I do both pillows. Perspiration drips down my nose and onto my wife's pillow case.
Damn! Oh well, the damage is done. I take off the pillow case and wipe my brow. I pull the blanket to the top of the bed. I look back over my shoulder at the staircase. This is where I see her lurking three stairs from the top. Watching me. Ready.
She isn't there. I exhale. I am drenched.
I quietly remove my t-shirt and wipe my clammy upper body with it. I continue to straighten the bed. I move toward the comforter. Her favorite part of the bed. I look back at the stairs. She really is hiding well, this time.
Whew! It is really warm in here. I think I will take off some of these clothes. I remove my sweatpants. Oh..what to heck, I will remove my smiley face boxer briefs. I will be doing laundry later.
I slowly put the comforter on the bottom of the bed. I start to unfold it. I scan the room. I look back at the staircase. This is where she fly onto the bed like Superman. She doesn't walk to the bed, she doesn't run to the bed. She soars in from some mysterious place and lands on some critical fold of the comforter, making it impossible to continue without some sort of feline/human combat.
I continue to pull the comforter to the top of the bed. Done. The pillows next. Done. I exhale and then I scream, "YES!!!!!….YES!!!!!" My right arm is pumping furiously.
|Location, location, location.|
As it turns out, my wife was entertaining our new friend, Janie. I should say a former new friend. When they heard me screaming, they ran up the stairs and were greeted by a sweaty, wild eyed naked man pumping his arm wildly.
Janie ran down the stairs and exited the house through the front door, and I mean THROUGH THE FRONT DOOR. She didn't even bother to open the door. She went through the screen hollering, "He's crazy! He's crazy." This would not be so alarming except for the fact that she is a psychiatric nurse.
This whole incident upset Madison so much that she vomited into the heat register in front of the living room window.
I realized later that I really enjoy her "helping" me make the bed and I would miss it if she didn't do it. I went upstairs and messed up the bed, and called her. She lurked on the third stair from the top.
All is well. I missed this more than she did.