Wool and Spice

I used to sleep all night before I owned cats. I’d go to bed at 10 or 11 and sleep through until morning and never hear a sound. I never knew what I was missing.

A noise woke me at 3:30 this morning. Since Gus was howling to go out, I decided to let him see that the temps were in the frigid teens and he really should use the litter box instead.

I turned on the porch light and opened the door without looking. Two fat raccoons who had been enjoying a nocturnal snack from my bird feeders took off through the shrubs. A third ran 10 feet, stopped and turned around to protest.

Before I could react (hey it was 3:30) Gus rushed out. Since they were raccoons and not squirrels he lost interest and stayed just out of my reach and of course went completely deaf. Going outside to grab him meant exposing my tender bits to the cold night air, which didn’t appeal much.

Besides what if the neighbors were up? The wife just had surgery and the husband’s ill, so I knew they weren’t sleeping well. They’d see this barely dressed nutcase running around in the middle of the night chasing cats and raccoons.

I mean I don’t care if they think I’m a few slices short of a full loaf, but I would rather they didn’t know what I sleep in. TMI, you know.

I keep a lace shawl on the back of a chair near the door so I wrapped that around my waist and stepped out to grab Gus. Which startled Raccoon #3 so that he ran up the nearest tree. And caused Gus to rush off to find a patch of garden to pee in.

(Cleo stuck her head out the door, saw what was going on and went back in the house. I knew she was smart.)

I debated leaving Gus out knowing that he’d soon climb over the roof to the upstairs deck to be let in (a process I can hear from my bedroom). But I didn’t like having him outside with the raccoons so near.

While I’m standing in the open door waiting for my brain to jump start, Gus returned to the porch, levitated onto the railing and peered up at the second story, tail twitching.

You know how cats stare at a point so intensely that you’re convinced there’s a very important thing over there you should be aware of, so you look too? And there’s never anything there? And you feel like a dork afterward?

Yeah, this was like that, but not quite.

Two more raccoons were perched on the upstairs deck railing on either side of the feeder hoovering up bird seed as fast as they can. Completely ignoring us. They didn’t look like they were going anywhere anytime soon.

By now the brain is registering that after getting me out of a warm bed, small creatures are pushing me around. Including a small creature that I own. Perhaps, the brain suggests, I might forget the neighbors, stop acting like a loser and handle this situation so we could get back to bed and get some sleep?

Besides I paid for that damn bird seed and I didn’t invite the raccoons to the party.

So I grab Gus and throw him in the house. Stomp upstairs, holding the shawl up with one hand, wondering if tired, cranky human is intimidation enough for these raccoons or if something else will be required. Trip over the cat. Curse cat and raccoons alike.

Open the door and hiss as furiously as I can without making much noise. Raccoon #4 loses heart and goes headfirst over the deck. Raccoon #5 keeps eating.

Insulted now, I whip off the shawl and stomp across the deck in frozen bare feet (and other parts). Furiously flapping the shawl I threaten annihilation to anything that’s brown and black and full of my bird seed. When I’m three feet away, Raccoon #5 decides it’s a good time to get out of Dodge.

I heard its claws scrape the wooden deck support as it shimmied down the 15 feet. About half way, it either jumped or lost its grip because there was a loud thud as raccoon heiny hit frozen ground. Good riddance.

A quick look around didn’t show any lights on in the neighbors’ house so maybe no one will know I was running around half-naked when it’s 15 degrees out last night.

Grabbed the bird feeder and skidded back into the house. Locked the door and shut off the outside lights, thinking how glad I was that raccoons are afraid of lace.

Turn around and two cats are sitting in front of their empty bowls, looking for an early breakfast.

I gently placed the bird feeder in front of them, draped the shawl over my shoulders and took my frozen toes to bed.

Tags: Cats, lace