Damned cats.

I was sitting on the throne performing my evening constitutional when a thumping noise started.

I figured it was my sons, probably the three year old. If he's bored and in bed he begins hitting the wall with his heel.

So I wrapped thing up, went into their room and found both of them fast asleep. Figuring it must have come from the back deck (and there isn't anything out there that would begin thumping on it's own) I broke out the gun and eased myself out the back door, finger on the trigger guard.

Nothing there.

Okay, maybe I'm losing it and maybe we're haunted. I've lived in a haunted house before, I can deal with this. As I put the gun away I tell myself that I know it can't be coming from our baby girl's room, she's more vocal than anything else. But I decide to check just to make sure, you never know.

It wasn't her, it was our male cat. The good-for-nothing feline got himself trapped when I shut the door after putting the girl to bed and NOW he wants out. He even gave me a, "So what took you so long" look as he sauntered out the door.

I wasn't a cat person till I met the War Department, she's always had one. I remember coming across a post once that stated comparing dogs to cats was like comparing cars to lava lamps. Probably written by a cat lover.

Damned cats.