And the call was coming from inside the house!
So, a bit of context:
1) I'm at my parents' house. They're not around, having taken off for a month-long round-the-country road trip; my friend Cathye is house-sitting, taking care of the cats, etc. All is well so far.
2) Recently, a new cat has appeared on the scene in my parents' neighborhood--he has to be feral, because I've never seen a domesticated cat that acts the way this cat acts. I once ran into him in the yard and tried to shoo him away, and he hissed and lunged at me. He also has a history of yowling and throwing himself against our plate-glass door while my parents' cat sits on the other side. This is a tiny, badass cat.
So it's two o'clock this morning, and I'm sleeping away, earplugs in, etc. And even through the earplugs, I wake up to the sound of a full-on cat fight. Sherlock and Alex don't fight much anymore (lots of chasing, lots of "Tag! You're it," not a lot of actual aggression), so I head out into the living room to give them a stern talking-to. And who do I run into in the hallway? THE CAT. THE CAT IS IN THE HOUSE! I call for Cathye to help me out, but by the time she shows up, he's gone. I start to doubt myself--I've just woken up from a dead sleep, after all--but there are three colors of fur all over the living room: orange (Alex), brown (Sherlock), and black (Evil Feral Home Invader Cat)! We search the house as I try to convey the badassery of this cat to Cathye; we never do find him, but we do find a new, cat-sized hole in the screen of a window we'd left open. So, to review: an eight-pound stray a) ripped a hole in our window screen, b) came into my house, c) delivered a good old-fashioned beating to my parents' fourteen-year-old, eighteen-pound cat, d) intimidated a grown woman into calling for backup, and e) disappeared. NOTHING IS SAFE, YOU GUYS.
In other news: Interview #2 was yesterday, and I think it went well--I met the president of the company and the girl who currently does my job (she's not leaving; I'd be an addition rather than a replacement), and I feel good about it. I feel like I asked good questions, I said the things I forgot to say in the first interview, and they seemed to like me. They said they'd make a decision soon, so I'll just be over here, freaking out every time the phone rings. Don't mind me.
1) I'm at my parents' house. They're not around, having taken off for a month-long round-the-country road trip; my friend Cathye is house-sitting, taking care of the cats, etc. All is well so far.
2) Recently, a new cat has appeared on the scene in my parents' neighborhood--he has to be feral, because I've never seen a domesticated cat that acts the way this cat acts. I once ran into him in the yard and tried to shoo him away, and he hissed and lunged at me. He also has a history of yowling and throwing himself against our plate-glass door while my parents' cat sits on the other side. This is a tiny, badass cat.
So it's two o'clock this morning, and I'm sleeping away, earplugs in, etc. And even through the earplugs, I wake up to the sound of a full-on cat fight. Sherlock and Alex don't fight much anymore (lots of chasing, lots of "Tag! You're it," not a lot of actual aggression), so I head out into the living room to give them a stern talking-to. And who do I run into in the hallway? THE CAT. THE CAT IS IN THE HOUSE! I call for Cathye to help me out, but by the time she shows up, he's gone. I start to doubt myself--I've just woken up from a dead sleep, after all--but there are three colors of fur all over the living room: orange (Alex), brown (Sherlock), and black (Evil Feral Home Invader Cat)! We search the house as I try to convey the badassery of this cat to Cathye; we never do find him, but we do find a new, cat-sized hole in the screen of a window we'd left open. So, to review: an eight-pound stray a) ripped a hole in our window screen, b) came into my house, c) delivered a good old-fashioned beating to my parents' fourteen-year-old, eighteen-pound cat, d) intimidated a grown woman into calling for backup, and e) disappeared. NOTHING IS SAFE, YOU GUYS.
In other news: Interview #2 was yesterday, and I think it went well--I met the president of the company and the girl who currently does my job (she's not leaving; I'd be an addition rather than a replacement), and I feel good about it. I feel like I asked good questions, I said the things I forgot to say in the first interview, and they seemed to like me. They said they'd make a decision soon, so I'll just be over here, freaking out every time the phone rings. Don't mind me.