Me and Stray Cats....Just.Don't.Get.Along!!

Some of you all know that I've had my run in's with my neighborhood stray ninja cats.

Well....I got paid a visit the other night after work.

My family and I live in a townhouse. We occupy the upstairs unit.

So imagine stairs to my front door.

Imagine me coming home after midnight.

Imagine it being dark. Really dark. (For theatrics sake)

Imagine me flipping the outside light on from the BOTTOM of my stairs so I can see the keyhole when I get to the top.

Imagine my surprise when I flipped the light on...I find a cat digging around in the garbage bag my husband left outside the front door to take out 'later in the morning on his way out'.

It was a black cat.

I had taken two steps upward in the same motion of flipping the light on and startled the beegeesus out of the cat and as it hissed and felt cornered it jumped on top of the railing by my front door and we had a stare down.

I took many steps back....cause I'm the biggest chicken sh*t in the world...especially when tired and cranky after a long hard strenuous work day (yes....the violins are playing for my whine and cheese story).

I silently curse my husband for leaving the trash out. I wonder if I'll have to go back to my car because if you read the other ninja cat story you'll understand my hesitation to proceed.

I'm sweating. And panicking.

So is the cat.

And then it freaking jumps off the railing to the tree away from where I am. But the leaping thing made me think it was leaping in mid air to attack me.

So I sorta threw my purse down, and covered my face and head and squealed in mock pain like it had hit me.

Then the tiny little rational person inside me, who had tried explaining that I outweighed the furball by a trillion pounds and that I was the person, IT was the animal....and that along the food chain of things I ranked superior, heard tree branches and scrambling of 4 tiny disgusting vile feet make it's way beyond me.

So it's past midnight. My purse is on the ground by the slugs because I didn't pay much attention when I frigged out. My nerves were beyond shot. And I need to go to my front door but the paranoia plays mean mind games on me thinking the cat was still in the tree right by my front door and would lunge for my face and rip out my eyeballs.

So I did what any completely silly person would do. I ran up my steps with my slugged slimed-ed purse to my face and opened up 2 doors, (since when the hell did my husband close both doors? I close the second door when I get in...), 4 locks with trembling hands and escaped what I'm sure was a near death experience.

And I'm sure that if ANY of my neighbors (or husband) had been up at the late late hour I would have looked/felt/seemed more pathetic than I was.

Sigh.

Some days it sucks to be me.

I hate cats.

The stray kind.