A Cat's Tail - A True Story

A Cat's Tail: Knock, Knock, Meow

By Laura Romero

I don't sleep well as it is. Most nights, or so it feels, every little sound brings me out of my dream-state. I can only surmise this of course, by the level of exhaustion I feel when I awake in the morning and my how many dreams get interrupted throughout the night. Sometimes I'm thankful for this, for the mish-mash of thoughts running through my mind creates the most preposterous situations for me in my dreams. And other times I would certainly like to stick around longer and finish want I started - if you get what I mean. But in general, I don't enjoy being dragged out of my bed in the middle of the night for any reason other than when nature calls.

That being said, I have a cat that's a bit of an asshole. Yes, all cats are jerks - don't get me started. I just feel that this one is particularly cognizant of his actions. Morty is a stray my children rescued as a weeks old infant from the wilds of my backyard. He grew up to be truly the sweetest, cuddliest, softest kitty ever. But... He also likes to wake me up by sitting on my face in the middle of night, pawing at my bare neck. He goes hunting or prancing or whatever cats do outdoors and then comes in and sleeps and eat and tries to hump my elder female cat. He gets along with my dogs which is a plus. And he possesses the special talent of jumping from the floor to your chest and being able to grab onto you with his claws, whether you are looking or not. Oh, I forgot to mention that instead of meowing he does this super annoying cooing thing that is eerily close to a pigeon. All the time. Okay, maybe he's not the worst jerk. Hey, it was never a crime to be a dog person.

Morty - the Jerk Face
Picture by Rebecca Romero - my kiddo

I don't normally let him out at night because he chooses the wee hours of the morning to tire of chasing tail, eating bugs, getting into fights, or whatever it is that cats to when they go outside. I quickly grew tired of the routine of being awoken by Morty scratching and cooing at my backdoor at three in the morning. And let me tell you, he's a persistent little bugger.

However, on this particular night, a Sunday, he ran out with the dogs out for their nightly pee.

As I said, I don't sleep well. I took a melatonin to help me fall asleep, as is my usual habit. I was out after reading a few pages of an old Tom Clancy novel. I've been really into spies lately.

Normally, even when awakened in the middle of the night, I have a pretty good idea of what time it is and am never off by more than 30 minutes. But late Sunday/early Monday I was way off my game.

I woke to the sound of soft scratching coming from somewhere in my room.

scratch scratch... scratch scratch...

One of the first winters we lived in our home they started doing construction in the large open field in the front of our neighborhood. And, lucky us, our house is on the first street that borders that large open field. All the displaced field mice made new nests in our homes that winter. We had a mouse infestation like you would not believe. We didn't have a cat at the time to help chase them down or deter them in any way, not that our first cat, Pepper, would have been of any help. She's actually quite useless in that department. I don't think we even had a dog yet. These mice got so brave that one night, I woke up to one staring me in the face. Beady eyes to blue eyes. He was standing on my chest! Not acceptable. We finally had to resort to poisoning them and lived with the smell of death in our walls for weeks. So, call me paranoid, but when I hear soft scratching noises at any time, day or night, I am on instant alert. A form of Mouse Traumatic Stress Disorder.

scratch... scratch...

The noises were coming from my backdoor. Morty. That jerk face. When Morty came scratching at my door, I swore it was three in the morning. However, when I rolled over and looked at the time it as only 12:36. Strange. Morty was early. I groaned and probably said a few choice words while I stumbled to the french doors that lead to my backyard. I unlocked the door, moved the curtain, opened the door, shooed the cat in, shut the door, locked it, adjusted the curtain and decided that I may as well answer nature's call.

My hallway is short and wide, maybe ten steps to the bathroom from my bedroom door. I left both doors open, knowing no one else was up that time of night. Morty ran up the stairs to find something else to get into so it was just me and my sleeping teenager daughter downstairs. As I was answering nature's call, as it were, I was startled by an entirely different sound.

Two knocks.

KNOCK... KNOCK...

And a meow.

Meow...

Coming from my door.

The knocks caused a short spurt of barking to come from my elderly chihuahua who was sleeping in my daughter's room. I stopped peeing midstream. I took care of the necessities and pulled my clothes back up. What in the hell?

I tiptoed into my daughter's room first. That wasn't difficult. considering it's on the way back to my room. She has a sliding glass door that looks out into the backyard. Had I locked it earlier that night? She was still sleeping but stirred when I opened her door. The chihuahua ran upstairs to join the cat. Traitor. My daughter mumbled, "Mom?" and promptly fell back asleep. I made my way over to her sliding glass door and slowly pushed aside the vertical blinds. It was surprisingly bright out for 12:40 at night. Whether that was the neighbor's motion activated floodlights or just the hazy night sky magnifying the starlight, I don't know. Whatever the reason, I didn't need to flip the switch for own outdoor lights.

I don't know what I expected to see. Someone running away? An errant child bouncing on the trampoline? The side gate banging shut? If anything, the only movement I saw was the wind ruffling the weeds. A constant reminder of what a terrible groundskeeper I am. I reached down and made sure the sliding door was locked and quietly made my way out of my daughter's room.

Next stop was my room. My heart pounded in my ears; I couldn't help it. I was genuinely freaked out by the knock, knock, meow. I picked my way through my room, always a war zone/dumping ground for anything and everything the family deems lost or not theirs or otherwise unworthy of putting in its proper place. I only stepped on one thing on the way to the back door and considered that a win. I moved my curtain aside and stared out at the other half of my backyard. I could see the shed where four little kittens were born a few years back. The tree the kids used to climb in. And nothing else. No cats. No people. Door locked? Yes.

I have no idea what I would have done if someone or something had jumped out at me. I had no weapon and I was wearing an over-sized t-shirt and pretty much nothing else. I guess I could always have shut the curtains and ignored him. Or shamed him to death. Or just screamed. The world will never know.

Now I walked with more bounce in my step to the front door and looked out at the window to what I could see of the driveway. I noticed a few of the neighbors' lights were on, all aimed at driveways and front doors. But I don't recall if that's a normal occurrence or not. Did something activate a motion sensor? Or are they always on at night? I twisted the lock to double check I had indeed locked it before bed.

I heard my husband snoring on the couch. I guess his movie outlasted him. Since I never saw anything and didn't have a suspect in a headlock, I couldn't think of a reason to wake him and join in the search so I decided to go back to bed.

I kept one eye and one ear on my back door until sleep finally found me again. I replayed the noises in my head. knock, knock, meow Cat? Human? Imagination? Perhaps it was a practical joke? A copy-cat cat? Am I ever supposed to know the truth? Other than the fact that all cats are jerks?