Every time I get angry at my cat for waking me up in the morning or sending my to work with a hole chewed out of the crotch of my wool pants, I remind myself of an unfortunate incident from a few years ago and soften my stance a bit.
It was a Saturday morning, and I was home alone, doing the laundry, wearing my headphones, and listening to music.
I opened the dryer, removed a shirt, and went into the bedroom to get dressed. Realizing that it was still a bit damp, I returned to the dryer, tossed the shirt back in, closed the door, and turned on the machine.
Kaleigh, my dog, came running almost immediately, barking at the dryer as if it were an intruder. I looked at her, perplexed, for about ten seconds, before finally removing my headphones and realizing the source of her distress.
I quickly reached over and opened the door to the dryer, stopping the cycle. A second later a fuzzy, disconcerted cat leapt from the dryer and took off for the bedroom.
Poor Owen.
I can’t imagine what I might have happened had Kaleigh not alerted me to the problem. Apparently my music was playing rather loudly.
Springsteen, if I remember correctly.
It took half an hour to coax the cat out from underneath the bed. Fortunately, he was fine. A little crazed, but otherwise good.
Sometimes I wonder if he still remembers this incident from years ago and has been waking me up at 4:00 AM on purpose.
As he did this morning.
