Frightening Feline Friday, Babysitting Edition (again)

I used to babysit very regularly for a family who had a HUGE white cat named Homer. I didn’t mind Homer too much because the two hooligans in my care were pretty wild little bastards, so Homer hid in the basement most of the time. Sometimes, I even got smart, and blocked his little cat door he ~~wouldn’t~~ couldn’t come out even after the boys went to bed.

I arrived at the House of Homer one late afternoon, and soon after the parents had pulled out of the garage, the kids and I heard animalian screaming from the garage. I assumed Homeslice had gotten trapped in the garage when the parents left and I was just about to open the door to let him in when one of the boys realized Homer was in the house with us.

So, like any babysitter worth her salt, I went into full-on panic mode and assumed we had somehow accidentally trapped a coyote, bear, mountain lion, or goddamn worse in the garage. I will say that I kept my cool in front of the kids, but I did text the parents with a query of WHAT IN THE ACTUAL HELL COULD BE STUCK IN THE GARAGE, CLAWING AT THE DOOR TO GET IN. (and yes, I did convince myself that it would be able to claw through the entire door before the parents got home)

The parents were not nearly as panicked as I was, as they casually explained that their neighbor’s cat had probably gotten into the garage as they were backing out and then not gotten out fast enough. And, of course, the keypad on the outside of the garage door wasn’t working, so the only way to get the neighbor’s hellspawn out of the garage would’ve been to let it run through the house and I think you already know Babysitter Bev’s decision on that.

So, instead, I got to sit and listen to a demon cat screech and claw at a door for about six hours. It never did dig itself all the way through the door, but I am convinced it would’ve, if given a few more hours.

Cat: