If I Die in a Home Invasion

May 5, 2015 — 30 Comments

Dear Journal,

As I began to drift to sleep shortly after midnight, I was startled back into full consciousness by a booming thud.

My eyes popped open, and I remained still as my vision acclimated to the dark bedroom. Being prone to the occasional hypnagogic paracusia, I was unconcerned until I heard another booming thud.


I carefully slid out of bed so as to prevent the bed frame from creaking. Stealthily and cautiously, I stepped into the hallway. Standing behind the threshold of the dining room, I peered inside to find the room undisturbed when suddenly, a third booming thud caused my heart to jump.

From Dining Room

It came from the dark living room.

It indeed sounded like someone was trying to push the front door open with force. My heart beat fast. My face felt cold.

Fearing for my safety, I told myself, ‘Go to the bedroom and press your alarm system’s panic button. The police will come and hopefully scare off whoever is trying to break in.’

Just as I turned to dash the short distance to the panic button, my conscience spoke up. ‘Maybe you should check it out first.

‘Why would I want to “check out” a crackhead breaking into my home,’ I asked my conscience with a lavish application of condescension.

Because you never know. Just take a quick peek.’

‘But it’s dark in there! What are you trying to do? Get me killed?’

Don’t be such a pussy. The dining room lamp is on. You’ll be able to see enough.

‘Damn it,’ I told my conscience. ‘What have I told you about calling me a pussy?’

Sorry,’ it whined. ‘But you are. You’re a big ol’ slimy, organic dick mitten. What if nothing’s there? Even the cops are going to call you a pussy if they show up for nothing.’

‘God damn it,’ I groaned. But my conscience was right. I couldn’t just press the panic button like a game show buzzer.

I warily ambled toward the living room, keeping close to the dining room wall. Peering into the dimly lit living room, I surveyed the shadows for disturbance. At first sight, everything appeared in customary disarray. Envelopes scattered in small piles on the coffee table. Sofa pillows slung at odd angles. Cat toys randomly dispersed on the hardwood floor. But deeper into the darkness, near the front door on the other side of the living room, something seemed out of place.

I took another cautious step closer for better inspection, keeping my weight on my front foot so as to be ready to bolt at even a tenuous sign of danger. Suddenly, a familiar face appeared from behind the sisal ottoman with a startled expression. It was the deaf cat, Zoe. Just beyond her, a pile of books rested on the hardwood floor. Heavy books. Books she had just pulled off the bookshelf.

Cat in the Dark

I rolled my eyes. When she recognized me, she greeted me with a gargling meow and pranced towards me with a hunched back, her tail pointing straight in the air. As she rubbed against my leg, her tail curled around my calf.

I sighed. Feeling the anger drain away.

As I carried her to bed with me, purring as she rested in the crook of my arm like royalty, I felt ignorant for forgetting a similar episode from a few weeks prior when she knocked over the recycle bin at 2 am. I had been ready to call in the national guard until I turned on the kitchen light to reveal her licking disposed cat food cans like a ravenous hobo. I didn’t stay mad at her for long after that incident, either. How could I? After catching her in the midst of mischief, she always seems so happy to see me.

However, I fear that these nocturnal incidents may eventually desensitize me to the signs of an actual break-in. So if I die the victim of a home invasion, I request someone line up all five cats and explain how my violent death was completely their fault. I prefer this task be designated to a person with an unbridled temper as screaming and furniture flipping must be involved when communicating outrage to apathetic heathens.

Once we were both cuddled in bed, it only required six or seven long and gentle strokes down Zoe’s back before she was asleep. And since the house fell still again, I allowed myself to drift into sleep as well. But just as my mind began to shut down for the night, my conscience took the opportunity to have the last word by whispering:

Cat Sleeping with Me


30 responses to If I Die in a Home Invasion


    This is not just a hilarious great blog post, Cary. I tried to imagine how I would react to such a thing (thankfully I got a strong man next to my bed who’s taking care of these midnight noises. LOL) But I would definitely say: The de-sensitizing is danger to consider. I would however take over the task to talk to your cats and explain them their mistake… but seriously: with a consciousness this eloquent I’m sure you’ll survive the next 200 nightly incidents. *chuckle*
    Thanks for the entertainment!!

    Liked by 2 people


    I’m glad I was patient and didn’t start bugging you to post something Cary. This was worth the wait! You need a baseball bat for these occasions, not to hit the cat with, but you know, so you look more intimidating. “dick mitten” I can’t wait till I can weave that into a casual conversation!

    Liked by 1 person


      It’s been slow here on the site since tech week for the show was last week and the show running until the end of May. I’m also trying to focus on a larger writing project…and that is probably a lot more than you wanted to know. Ha!



    New phrases to work into conversation at cocktail parties:

    1. Hypnagogic paracusia

    2. Organic dick mitten

    3. Nocturnal incidents

    The last one just sounds prurient.

    Liked by 1 person


    I’m glad your kitty was there to help you get those books off of the shelf. How would you have ever done it yourself? MOL

    Liked by 1 person


    Just found your blog of the pet parade hop, you kill me these are such funny stories and the illustrations make it even better. Stop by and say hi!

    Liked by 1 person


    I know this pain all too well. Not only do my cats require these same courses of action from me, but I know that the one time I choose to ignore them, it will prove to be an intruder in my home, come to kill me.

    Excellent article, Cary. As usual.

    Liked by 1 person


    Our cat DaVinci does this thing where she suddenly runs as fast as she can from our room into the hall, pushing the rug out from under her and into the guitar that I’m stupid enough to leave leaning against the adjacent wall. Freaks me out every single time.

    Liked by 1 person


    “big ol’ slimy, organic dick mitten” the classiest, most apt description for vagina I’ve ever heard. Definitely worthy of a T-Shirt lol

    Liked by 1 person


    One of mine likes to sit on my desk at a quarter to the alarm going off and push items off of the desk one by one until I’m awake. I know it’s deliberate because the witch is always staring at me while she does it.

    Liked by 1 person


    I lost it at “organic dick mitten”.

    Also, this reminds me of a conversation my husband once had with a coworker who thought her house was haunted.

    “I think we have a poltergeist. I keep hearing weird sounds at all hours and in the morning we’re always finding that things have been moved or knocked over.”
    “Do you have cats?”
    “Yeah, why?”

    Liked by 1 person


      My partner would have said the same thing (about the house being haunted). Actually, he has said that before. I have to keep reminding him that we don’t have a haunting; we have an infestation.

      Liked by 1 person


    I think she’s testing the boundaries of what humans can and cannot hear. She’s planning something. Watch out!

    Liked by 1 person


    You are freaking hilarious.

    Liked by 1 person


    Her training of you seems to be going well. You deserve a treat!

    Liked by 1 person


    So the cat was just testing her current hypothesis: how many books crashing to the floor does it take to make the human pay attention to her?

    Liked by 1 person

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