Zombie Biker Cat Attack

Night time activities I would prefer to noise-making and hell-raising: snuggles

 

The very best thing about having cats is blaming them for startling noises at night so you can stop worrying about the possibilities of break-ins and ghosts and alien invaders. Not… that… I do. Not that I wake up thinking AH! ZOMBIES! No… no, wait… cats. Probably cats. 

This was a very important role for my boys to play at my old house since breaking in would be as difficult as…. say, pushing the door very hard. Or very likely pushing the wall very hard. Or sometimes just crawling in through a hole in the floor which is where, I imagine, all the spiders came from.

New house is fancy with its alarm system and solid walls with insulation and whatnot. You would think noises would be less panic-inducing, right?

False.

Last week, CF and I were awoken ’round about 3:30 in the a.m. by a deafening CRASH that most certainly came from within the house, followed by the mad scampering of both kitties up the stairs. I woke immediately, sat stock straight, and said, “Zombies!”

That’s not true. What I said was, “What the crap was that?” What I  meant was “ZOMBIES?!”

CF tried to pretend like it wasn’t a big deal (agenda: sleep. not on agenda: fight zombies) but I was not havin’ it. There were noises and possibly zombies happening and kitties scared out of their whiskers cowering in a corner and it was my job as self-appointed vampire slayer of the house to investigate.

So I mission-impossibled myself stealthily down the stairs, flipping on lights unexpectedly–because that’s how I startle my victims/make them visible before I ATTACK!–and gearing up for a death match. Cristian shuffled along 12 steps behind me saying helpful things like, “Huh?” and “What are we doing?”

On the way down the stairs, we found the blanket Billy usually sits on which is normally draped across the back of the couch splayed instead across four steps. Odd. But Bill often finds his toys static electrically attached to his body and we often find those things deposited in non-play areas. Conclusion: when the noise happened, Billy was on the couch, freaked the heckfire out, and managed to drag the blanket half-way up the stairs when he fled the zombie attack zone. I inferred from this conclusion that Bill was not the source of the noise.

With all the lights in the house on–including closet lights and outdoor lights–I could not find anything at all out of place. Even when I realized that there were not any zombies to be found and a more likely explanation was that a hanging picture probably fell (because that happened once before and it was super loud and scary), I couldn’t find the noise source.

Until! …. I noticed the stool that usually sits next to the picture window in the dining room was on the floor. Not like, standing on its legs on the floor because that’s normal, but resting on its side on the floor like it had been shot and keeled over. Like one would do to a zombie. But you have to shoot zombies in the head or they just keep moving.

Side note on Captain after a side note on zombies just to complicate the plot: Captain’s face emits various forms of mucousy yuck, usually projectile snot but occasionally dripping eye goopies. He’s my special little guy.

Upon further investigation, I found the above mentioned yuck spots staining the wall next to the table on which sit the dried out flowers we had recently discovered Captain had been EATING and barfing up around the house.

With TV crime drama-like melodrama, I announced my findings to my extremely disinterested housemate: “Ahhhh, yes! Captain must have been sitting on the table, munching on flowers, leapt down upon the stool with such force that it tipped over, slamming to the floor, scaring the bajesus out of Billy, who then hauled his furry butt, blanket and all, up the stairs to his mommy. Captain probably followed, possibly because his was scared but more likely to see what Bill was doing.”

We then spent the next 20 minutes coaxing Bill out from under our bed where he had latched onto the rug for dear sweet lazy kittie life. Captain made himself comfortable on our pillows since they were vacant.

Oh Kitties.

I dreamed that night that there were zombie bikers in skeleton masks having a meeting in our kitchen and they were none too pleased when I interrupted to ask them what they were doing. Flicking on the lights unexpectedly extremely does not work on dream zombie bikers in skeleton masks who are having a very important meeting in your kitchen. Just so you know.

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