Last night was just a wierd night.
Rich came home drunk and lordly, so sleep was rather fitful due to snoring and general noisy-man-in-bed issues. (Honestly, the only orifice he was not making noise out of was his ears.) I was tossing and turning, tired but somehow wired, and just could not sleep.
And that's when I saw it.
The cat in our bedroom window. INSIDE.
Granted, I didn't have my glasses on, but I know a cat shape when I see one, and that was a cat, and it jumped down from the windowsill and then just....disappeared.
I would like to mention, we live on the third floor. I would also like to mention, we do not have a cat. (There has been some scaffolding outside our kitchen window, so it could, ostensibly, have come in through the cracked kitchen window, but I would have heard that with all the glass and tchotchkes on the windowsill. Even so, that is one AGILE cat.)
So the cat disappears, I jump up and am all like, "THERE IS A CAT IN OUR FLAT!" which made me giggle as it was very Dr Seuss like, in a grown up, urban sort of way.
Rich staggers up, lets out a RESOUNDING fart, and we commence cat searching, though I am pretty sure that the sonic boom of his ass-cannon probably deafened the cat and it now lay stunned and twitching under the bed (which we gingerly checked.) (I mean if it was feral cat, and you go sticking your face under the bed...that seems a good way to get your face scratched all to shit, no?)
No cat anywhere, but there was a good fug settling over the bedroom due to the continued resonance of Rich's over active blowhole. Maybe we could smell the cat out...like tear gas. (Well, that's how it was affecting me, anyhow.)
We gave up on the cat, I tried to air out the room a bit, and back to bed.
The laundry-drying rack in the dining room fell over. The cast must be in there.
Race in to the room, laundry rack down, balcony door open (SOMEBODY forgot to close it when they wandered out there in a lordly state, hmmm, I wonder who) but no cat to be seen, and believe me, if that cat* could have gotten onto our third floor balcony via the vertiginous brick walls that surround it, well, then, it deserved to be in our flat.
So I have no idea. Is it in here, or isn't it? Finding a cat that wants to not be found in this big ol' rambly apartment would not be easy, I can tell you that. Is there a cat detector somewhere? How does one find a cat that does not want to be found? (And I think of that show "Hoarders" where people find dead things in their houses they didn't know died, and I go ARGH. I mean, we are by no means hoarders, but this is a large flat with lots of hiding places.....)
My friend Jackie has a dog that she suggests might be effective in ferreting out a cat, she could bring him by. I think we may need to have the dog over for a sniff......
*And then Rich said it....."Maybe it was a rat. A big Norway rat." Fucker. THAT IS NOT HELPFUL.