Tuesday, November 2, 2010

The Cat Got My Tongue

You've heard the expression, "Cat got your tongue," right?  Well, of course - because it's me, the cat really did get my tongue.

Picture Garth Algar waving his hands .... dododoodoo....dododoodoo...dododoodoo

It was in San Angelo, TX.  In January of 2008.  Mike was gone....again (we've been married twelve years and I think we've lived together for only six or seven of those years) .  We sold our house a month before he left.  It was just as the market started to show some strain.  We thought that if we sold the house, the boys (just Jack and Aiden at this time) and I would live in an apartment for six months and then when Mike returned we could pack up and leave.  It took a while to find a place to live, but when we did we found a diamond in the rough.  It was a Bungalow, probably built at the turn of the century.  It had amazing wood floors that creaked and an amazing kitchen with a butlers pantry.  My bed room had two walls of nothing but windows.  I loved it!!

At this time, I really started watching a lot of ghost shows.  I couldn't get enough.  Ghost Hunters and Paranormal State were always on my DVR. 

On this particular night, I was in bed by 1:00 am.  I read for about half an hour to forty-five minutes.  Chastising myself, I turned off the light.  I woke up to Maddie (my petite golden retriever) prancing around and whining.  I was pissed.  A quick look at the clock told me it was 2:45 am.  I hadn't slept very long and Maddie had been outside for more than three hours that day.  I let her out and I climbed back into bed.  I fell asleep and then woke up to Maddie barking.  I got up.  A quick look tells me that it's now 3:15 am.  I let her in the house.  On the way back to bed, I realize it's the witching hour.  For those of you that don't know paranormal jargon....3:00 am is when paranormal activity is at it's highest.  Thinking this and looking wearily at my closet, I started to climb into bed. 

Now, what happens next is simultaneous:

I chastise myself for thinking there is a boogie man in the closet, but keep an both eyes on the door.  I pull back the covers and realize that my PITA cat Devotchka is in the middle of the bed.  The left side of my body is sliding between the sheets - the left ass cheek has made contact with the mattress - my right hand is extended holding the sheets up, my left hand is trying to push the cat out of my way, my eyes are still glued to the door...when all of a sudden a fucking dark shadow comes from out of the closet and onto the bed.  I make a horrible guttural noise that sounds like a drunk banshee: wwwaaaaaooohhhhheeeehhhhhhhhh. 

I almost, ALMOST, immediately realize that it's Maddie jumping on the bed; however, the damn cat gets scared.  My motion of getting into bed is still in play, the dog jumping on the bed is in play and Devotchka is doing a massive cartoon run in thin air.  Unfortunately, my face and chest are getting the brunt of the claws.  I manage to bat her out of bed.  Where she landed, I don't know and I don't care.  The dog is bouncing on the bed ready to play.  She gets sent to her bed.  I get up, take a benadryl and look in the mirror.  Three scratches on my cheek and puncture mark on my chest and another puncture in my tongue.  Yup.  That's right.  The damn cat got my tongue.

The moral of the story: go to bed earlier, kick the cat out of the bed and don't think of the boogie coming out of the closet.

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