Late last night, I had sunk into a deep sleep when I was awakened by shrieks and growls that came from a distressed cat. Groggily rolling out of bed, I staggered down the hall and towards the kitchen. Dark shadows flocked at the entrance to the kitchen, and I tried to avoid stepping on them as I groped for the kitchen light. Three orange cats stood in the doorway watching the kitchen intently, their ears pressed back against their skulls. In the middle of the kitchen Ishmael faced away from me with his back arched high and piercing the air with his loud meows. At the far end of the kitchen, crouched next to the cat food and water dish, and also howling, was The Imposter. His long, fluffy black fur stood straight out from his back and he stared at Ishmael with bright green eyes. When I started coming towards him, he dashed past Ishmael, ricocheted off the dining room table and leaped to the windowsill above the couch in the living room. I opened the sliding glass door in the dining room, thinking to give him an escape, but by the time I got it open, he had raced down the hall towards the bedrooms and escaped out the window in my room. I closed the door, Steven shut our bedroom window, and we made sure that all our cats were inside, and there were no more openings for The Imposter to return by. It appears that we will have to get used to sleeping with our window closed at night for a while.
Late last night, I had sunk into a deep sleep when I was awakened by shrieks and growls that came from a distressed cat. Groggily rolling out of bed, I staggered down the hall and towards the kitchen. Dark shadows flocked at the entrance to the kitchen, and I tried to avoid stepping on them as I groped for the kitchen light. Three orange cats stood in the doorway watching the kitchen intently, their ears pressed back against their skulls. In the middle of the kitchen Ishmael faced away from me with his back arched high and piercing the air with his loud meows. At the far end of the kitchen, crouched next to the cat food and water dish, and also howling, was The Imposter. His long, fluffy black fur stood straight out from his back and he stared at Ishmael with bright green eyes. When I started coming towards him, he dashed past Ishmael, ricocheted off the dining room table and leaped to the windowsill above the couch in the living room. I opened the sliding glass door in the dining room, thinking to give him an escape, but by the time I got it open, he had raced down the hall towards the bedrooms and escaped out the window in my room. I closed the door, Steven shut our bedroom window, and we made sure that all our cats were inside, and there were no more openings for The Imposter to return by. It appears that we will have to get used to sleeping with our window closed at night for a while.
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