Thursday, June 6, 2013

more gypsy life

One avenue down gypsy life is "House Sitting Way." It allows the gypsy to not hold a lease or (typically) pay rent, while at the same time maintain a roof over her head.

My first foray into house/pet sitting began with that month I watched a dog named Butterbean and the unfortunate incident with a groundhog. My latest was a a short week-long stint with two cats, named: Griffin and Kitten, also known as Psycho Kitten.

Kitten is really a deceptive name for this cat. Even with the qualifier of Psycho. There is very little that is kitten-like about this cat. Oh yes, she purrs when you stroke her head or scratch behind her ears. She'll purr louder if you grab her brush and run it under her chin. But the moment you stop petting, scratching, brushing, she'll reach her claws out faster than you can blink and strike you before you know what happened. Psycho doesn't cut it. She is will draw blood. And she will have no remorse.

I avoided her at all costs, but it still took all week for my reflexes to outwit her.

Needless to say, I slept with my door closed at night.

In bed before 10 on my final night on the job, I was sound asleep, when a strange sensation woke me. I opened my eyes to a deep black darkness. Feeling for sure that it had to be after 1 or 2 a.m. My eyes scanned in the direction of the doorway, where the expanse of blackness gave way to a slightly lighter shade of black about a foot wide.

Disbelieving what I saw. I blinked and looked again. I knew that I knew that I knew that I had shut that door before I drifted off to sleep. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness there was no mistaking that the door was indeed opened.

Still lying in bed and without moving, I shifted my gaze to the opposite wall where floor to ceiling curtains covered the large window. Just enough light from the moon or stars or street lights revealed the silhouette of a cat perched on the window sill, a sentry watching my slumber.

Groggy and disoriented, I lay still for a moment trying to figure out how the cat had managed to open the bedroom door without opposable thumbs. I leaned over to turn on the bedside lamp, and in an instant Griffin bounded down from his station and back out the bedroom door. I dragged myself out of bed and firmly shut the door. Making sure the latch held. Knelling down I made sure Kitten wasn't lurking under the bed, before I crawled back in and turned off the light.

I looked at my cell phone on the side table, 11:30 p.m. I lay awake for countless minutes knowing I needed more than an hour of sleep, but not trusting the cats that surely prowled right outside my bedroom door.

The internet may be teeming with "cute" kittens, but y'all, these were not those kinds of cats.


  1. They are ALL the type of cat you just described...I don't care what the Internet says ;) Glad you made it out of there alive!!

    1. Hahaha. I did survive the night prowlers, but my heart was racing for sure!