So I was sitting at the computer last night - around 2am or so - and heard a loud, rattling thump. My computer sits facing the dining room over a small room divider. There's a door from the dining room onto a small, screened in back porch - and a screen door to the back yard. The noise seemed to have come from outside the porch.

Anyway, it was loud enough to arouse both cats: Toyota had been dozing on the back of my chair and Xerox was under a chair a few feet away. When there was a second thump a few seconds later, both cats started growling, ran to the dining room and began stalking the door to the porch. This was followed by more rattling and banging and what sounded like scratching. I assumed something was trying to get in through the screen door from the yard to the porch - and my first assumption was that it was some other village cat.

But the thumping (against the door?) sounded a bit heavy for a cat, so my next thought was that it might be a raccoon trying to get to the bag of rubbish that was sitting on the porch. Anyway, the noise subsided and, while Toyota remained on a windowsill overlooking the back yard, Xerox wandered back to his place under the chair.

About five minutes later, though, the rattling and scratching started up again - a bit louder. Both cats were back on the scene, growling and fluffing up their tails. Then there were a couple of loud bangs, followed by some clattering and a few more loud thumps. I repaired to the bedroom to let Sean know that I thought a bear might be trying to get to the garbage bag on the back porch. A few years ago, a bear had come into the yard fairly regularly when a large garbage can had been kept outside the house. It would periodically toss the lid aside and tear apart the garbage bag inside, scattering rubbish all over the yard.

I must admit I was a bit spooked - as I suppose we're meant to be by things that go bump in the night - and was a bit goose bumpy by the time I got back to the bedroom to wake Sean.

"What? Why do you think it's a bear? Did you see anything?"

"No, but it sounds too large for a small animal."

"What sounds large?"

"The thumping and rattling. Like bigger than a possum or a fox. It's not a person because Xerox didn't hide [he hides behind the television when people approach the house] - he's right there with Toyota making cat noises at the back door."

"So what do you want me to do?"

"I don't know."

"Come to bed, then."

"With a bear or something out there?"

"It can't get in the house, can it?"

"It could if it's a zombie."

"It's not a zombie."

"How do you know?"

"Come to bed."

"I left all the lights and stuff on out there."

"Then go turn them off."

"..."

"Oh, all right."

By the time we got back to the dining room, the noises had subsided, but the cats were still a bit agitated. We turned off the lights and went to bed. "I guess it wasn't a zombie."

"Why?"

"They tend to be more persistent."

This morning, I investigated. The back door to the yard had, indeed, been attacked. In fact, the screen in the top half of the door had been replaced with glass for the winter - and the glass and most of the frame had been knocked into the back porch. The door is up a step, so the top panel is about four feet from the ground. As it turns out, it was a plexiglass panel, but it had been broken into three pieces nevertheless. The frame on the door was also slightly bent.

The weird thing, though, was that there were no scratches on the door (or anything else): the lower panel and frame are aluminum, painted white, and would be easily marked. The scratching I'd heard sounded like something scratching at a screen, but the only screen on the porch at the moment is on the inside door, right outside the dining room. There was one hair on the door frame below the punched out panel - black with a gray tip, slightly wavy, and about three inches long - not very coarse.

For some reason I was reminded of the Pennsylvania Creature that had been spotted in Westmoreland County back in the seventies. It was supposed to be a Marked Hominid, a slightly smaller relative of the Sasquatch. Anyway, night has fallen. We'll see if there's a return visit. Meanwhile, any thoughts?

Poll #1185931
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Was this most likely...

Tags: cat kingdom, nature studies, social and personal
humour: uneasy

So, yeah, there's been another hiatus in my journal updates. On the other hand, there was a minor spike in my posts to America's Debate. With work picking up - more like snowballing - it seems like my "recreational" internet time is at a premium.

Plus my typing has been slightly impaired for the last week or so - which brings me to the (rather obvious) life lesson: Never try to break up a cat fight with your bare hands. Even if they're your own cats.

A week or so ago, both cats were outside - they've taken to the great out of doors like a Republican takes to boysex - and there was a rare incursion into the territory by another cat from the village: much yowling, hissing, and screaming ensued outside our bedroom window. So, of course, we went out to the porch and called the beasties in.

They both came tearing into the house with enormous tails and arched backs and turned on each other - screaming around the house, bouncing off the walls, overturning furniture - so I attempted to come between them, finally grabbing Xerox(traditionally the more submissive cat) and tried to calm him down. Heh - stab-stab-stab-stab-stab-stab-crunch. All six claws (Xerox is polydactyl, which I should maybe have taken into consideration) on all four feet were raked across or sunk into various parts of my left hand, wrist, and forearm - followed by every possible tooth being sunk into my forefinger.

I washed the wound out pretty well, applied some hydrogen peroxide and so on and bandaged the worst of the punctures and scratches. The next morning (last Sunday), however, the finger was swollen up like a gnarled pink sausage and I couldn't bend it. So off I went to the emergency room for remarks from the receptionist - "You tried to break up a cat fight?" - the nurse - "You tried to break up a cat fight??" - and the doctor - "You tried to break up a cat fight?" - a tetanus booster, and a course of antibiotics.

Now, about a week later, my finger looks a bit more like a finger and I can finally make a fist again, so the infection seems to have cleared up. The wound is still sore and bits of the hand remain somewhat tender, but I can at least use all ten digits for typing. Hurrah.

Tags: cat kingdom, social and personal
humour: sore

So, yeah, Sean and I are moving back north in about a week. This obviously means that I'm leaving the Virgin Entertainment Group (nice company, shame about the management). It also means that I'm going to be taking on the family business: Indian Caverns, a roadside attraction in central Pennsylvania.

There we'll be: in an unfeasibly large house in rural Pennsylvania, running a risky business, and facing four seasons. At least I still know a couple of people in the area and Penn State is less than twenty miles away, so it won't be that isolated - and the business has some (if not great) potential - and the current winter is drawing to a close - so it could be quite good. At least for the next eight or nine months. Sean claims he's quite looking forward to it - though, for some reason, I keep flashing on Green Acres. In any event, we'll be living together north of the Mason-Dixon line for the first time in twenty-seven years. So... Hurrah!

How this came about:


And there we are. Anyway, my last day at Virgin was last Saturday. I will, of course, miss quite a few colleagues (well, a couple of them, anyway), but I can't say that I will miss working under destructively incompetent management. And, my God, are those guys inept. The one manager - the fetching Stever Ozer - that could be an asset is persistently thwarted by the neanderthals surrounding him. I could rail on at length about the sorry state of the managerial class in the United States, but I'll put that on hold for the moment. Sure, the level of sheer ineptitude that permeates our corporate culture is staggering, but, for me, it's also history. Hee-hee-hee.


bits of the mismanaged megastore
On a sadder note, it looks as though we'll be traveling without one of our cats. Dear little Shadowcat has gone missing. She was out one morning two weeks ago (as was customary) and never came back in. We scoured the sub-div for signs of roadkill, questioned neighbors, and did frequent food-rattlings in the yard to no avail. Several years ago in Ireland, Kodak the Cat similarly went missing - and turned up, somewhat thinner and much dirtier, six weeks later. She was not forthcoming about the details of her absence. But I suppose there's still a chance that Shadow may turn up. We're not holding out much hope at this stage, though.


the shadow
Meanwhile, Brian (the housemate and home-owner) asked if we wanted to move with his cat, Little Beast. And it looks like we're going to adopt the critter, even though he and our remaining cat, Toyota, don't get along all that well. Maybe the trauma of moving will help them bond. Should be a fun trip.

Aaanyway, much packing and so on lie ahead in the next few days - then a week or two with limited internet access - aaagh!

Details to follow when possible...

Tags: cat kingdom, photo/graphic, social and personal, virginal
humour: excited