Things going bump in the night is nothing unusual in the country. We hear all kinds of animals howling, scratching, and making other assorted sounds. Even the occasional car driving by in the night which sets off the "neighborhood" dogs in the country. Here in town it's a different kettle of fish. Mostly cars driving by and actual neighborhood dogs barking, but there is the distant howling of beagles on the hunt with a few coyotes even farther out.
That's why when you hear bumps coming from your attic it makes you nervous. What in blue blazes could possibly be up there making all those noises? Rolling over to get your husband's attention and finding nothing but more bed does not make you feel better. Of course it happens one of his three long work days. You have at least twelve hours of listening to bumps and thumps before your husband gets home. Oh wait there's a new one scratching coming from above your bathroom. Yay.
What do you do? Call the police? Call animal control? Call your dad whose two hours away who can't do anything at all? Well of course I did the latter of the three. Leaving a message on his voicemail was the best I could do and then I do what any other woman in my position does. I grab my husband's 45/410 handgun and go take Gypsy Rose out to potty so that I can check no one is on my roof. What my neighbors thought of my walking around with a bigger than Dirty Harry's gun I find irrelevant. But the most important part is no one was on my roof.
A little while later Daddy calls back. The whole time noises are coming from the attic. Here's a snippet of our conversation.
Daddy: Well, it could be a coon.
Me: Yeah, but I guess it'll have to wait till Honeybear gets home. Why else did I marry such a big country boy if not to run critters out of my attic. (Yes, I really said that.)
Daddy: Well, at least he's good for something. (No, Daddy did not say that.)
Daddy: Alright just be careful. Is there access from the outside to the attic.
Me: Only if something went under the garage door through the classroom ceiling and into the main part of the house.
Daddy: So it's possible. Could be anything mice, cats although cats usually go under.
(Noises right above me start up again.)
Me (looking up): GO AWAY!! *noises continue* Well yelling at it doesn't work Daddy.
Daddy (I believe their was a hint of amusement in his voice): Imagine that.
We spoke for a few more minutes and got off. Looking around Winchester caught my eyes ,Honeybear's persian cat I have yet to mention since we've only had him about a eight months, so I grabbed his food and filled his poor empty dish. (He's a cat so anything less than overflowing is empty of course.) And that's when the noises above went into full on meltdown mode. Scratching at the top of the recessed light fixture and thumping.
I grabbed the gun. And started to climb to the attic access. But couldn't quite reach it so turned to get the step ladder. When I turned I knocked the cat food off the shelf. And the lull that had come from my movements intensified. And it was accompanied by...meowing.
Apparently Madison's cat had gotten loose yesterday and not being able to make it back into the house her usual way climbed into the attic. Good thing she has nine lives, too bad I don't. I think she took a couple of years off my life. Til' next time y'all.