The Break-in

Her worst fears were realized last night; the large males who had been lurking outside her room for weeks finally managed to break in. They burst through the door in the dead of night, ransacked the room, rifled through her belongings, and destroyed her property. Terrified, she cowered under the bed for hours, long after the culprits were apprehended.

Prancy, the tiny calico foster cat, had spent the past three weeks in my bedroom, where she stayed while getting up to date on her vaccinations. She had been quite content to lounge in the windows and on the bed, and was slated to return to the shelter the following morning. In the meantime, my resident cats, Jack and Iggy, were desperate to find out what it was that I was keeping from them. Jack had spent the past few weeks howling and flinging himself against the door. I assumed that he would either be bored or concussed after a few days of these antics, but my refusal to let him in the room only seemed to strenghten his resolve. He HAD TO KNOW what was on the other side of that door!

While I was asleep on the couch, Jack somehow managed to get the door open, and he and Iggy dashed in. Like proverbial bulls in a China shop, they overturned my papasan chair, slid the rug into an accordion-folded pile of fabric in the corner, snagged the duvet cover, and knocked off (and proceeded to chew through) a bag of food and a bag of treats that were up on the dresser. I somehow failed to wake up until they had completely decimated the bag of treats.

Let me hasten to say that no foster cats were harmed during the break-in. In fact, I don't think the boys bothered her at all. They were in it for the treats, which they got. Rest assured that the intruders were quickly apprehended, and spent the rest of the night in the bathroom, despite their howls of protest.