Saturday, March 09, 2013

"Scritch!"

The house is quiet. No street noise, no heating unit, no dishwasher. No television. Just me sitting at the kitchen table engrossed in a new novel.

Scritch!

And again.

Strange noise. One of the cats? I see Pyewacket bedded down for the evening on the couch in the den. Tuxedo is not in evidence, so I seek him out and he's in the study. Not a totally unusual place for him to be, but he's alert and that is. He has an early bedtime.

Still, there's the scritching again. Tux's ears cant forward toward the old pump organ. I turn the light on and all is quiet.

Hmmm. It's been a long time, but we've had house noises like this before. In the normal course of events, the end result is me stepping on the remains of tail and feet one morning before I'm fully awake.

Here, mousey?

I turn the light off and return to my book. Five minutes later--and I'm sure very disgusted with me--Tux shows up in the kitchen. Another fifteen minutes pass and then--

Scritch!Scritch!Scritch!

Tux races as fast as his 25-pound body will carry him to the pump organ. The noise continues as I find a flashlight and tiptoe in.

I flash it behind the organ but there's nothing but poor housekeeping there. I press down on one of the pedals and not only does the noise stop but Tux takes an immediate interest in the corner of the room nearest the organ. Had I missed the flight of mousey?

On my knees, peering into the corner, there's a small crack between floor and quarter-round. Just large enough for our unwanted visitor?

We have not heard any more noise, but last night, Tux and Pye were both on patrol in front of the pump organ.

My money's on the cats. I just need to remember to turn the lights on and wear my house shoes.

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