Cause and effect.

Today I would like to talk about chain reactions.  Cause and effect.  Night before last, I woke up around 3am because I heard a noise and it dawned on me, something was missing.  What was missing?  The cat.  I panicked.  I went outside and called his merry little name several 1000 times.  Okay, about 25 times.

Then, I remembered, earlier in the day I had followed a trail of toys to the spare room, to the spare room closet, to the attic door which was wide open and letting hot air in.  I immediately went to beat the children.  Farkus did not come out of the attic when I screamed at the top of my lungs.  Nor did he appear later in the day when a friend and I heard weird noises from the ceiling.  So yesterday evening as I watched a coyote cross Watters Road, I figured it was a sign that poor Farkus had ventured out of the backyard and been eaten.

Fast forward to 4am this morning.  I hear another noise.  I get up and go to the bathroom where I distinctly hear faint meows coming through the wall.  I go outside.  I hear Mr. Farkus on the roof.  Wait no, that is Mr. Farkus, inside the roof.  In a part of the attic there is no hope of ever getting to.  Have I mentioned we have a big fucking attic.  When you walk into our attic it is a giant space that would make a super bad ass studio apartment, with apparently very small openings leading to places that only a cat could get to.  At 4am John and I are sweet talking the little vents along the eaves of our roof trying to coax the cat back to freedom.  We put a bowl of tunafish at the furthest corner of the attic we can get to.  Thank God for the internet and their stinky solutions.  It didn't lure the cat out but there is a bit of our attic that will always smell like white albacore.

After an hour of John talking to the roof and me squatting in insulation doing my best cat in distress imitation, we give up.  We try to go back to bed but Mr. Farkus is now in the attic above our bedroom meowing his own distress call, pissed as hell at our failed rescue attempts.  We lay in bed wide awake coming up with Plan B.  Which does in fact include living in a house where the final resting place of Mr. Farkus happens to be, right above our bed.

After getting the kids to school I discover,
A. The Fire Department draws the line at kittens in trees.
B. Animal Rescue does not open until 11am (by noon the attic will be 400 degrees and the cat mummified).
C. The a/c people will not come undo their work to rescue a cat, they will only come repair the damage once I break it.  Thank you and have a nice day.

In desperation I call the only person I have been able to trust since we bought our house, the guy who actually built our house and did the walk through with us.  He is no longer working for Darling homes but he is still a rock star.  He gives me the name of a General Contractor who happens to be about 3 minutes from my house.  I take this as another sign, although a better one than the coyote.  Rock star number 2 shows up at my house 10 minutes after I call him.  He arrives at the scene with the promising sounds of trapped kitty squawking from the return air duct chamber.  After we discuss a few options, he cuts a nice manageable hole and said kitty picks this moment to go silent, underground, vanish.  Shit balls.  Okay, so now the entire.....whatever that big silver squishy thing is that takes the air away is completely sawed off so that Rock Star man can through some crazy builder magic, fit his sizable frame through a hole my 7 year old could barely fit through.  Up he goes, into the inferno, and he spots Mr. Farkus.

"Farkus, it is your savor, a hero who has gone above and beyond to save your skinny little kitty ass. What, no!!!  Do not run from your rescuer!!"  And he disappears.  Shit balls.

After several attempts to locate ninja kitty, we just give up.  This is why people hate cats.  Dogs, dogs would not do this shit.  They would roll over, wag their tails, "Thank you, thank you for saving me!  I am an idiot, how did I get myself in this predicament.  Can I lick you?  Worship you like a God?  Seriously, I will love you forever for this."  It is a happy touchy feely moment with the photo finish.

Cats, not so much.  Mr. Farkus was all, "Okay, the hole was exactly what I would have done.  But coming up here?  You idiot!  Go away!!!  I can handle things from here.  Don't let the door hit your ass on the way out."

20 minutes after Mr. Rock Star left, Mr. Farkus came down.  Of course he will be back this afternoon to patch the hole.  At which point Mr. Farkus will hide in the closet and spit at him if he tries to get a look at the good deed he did before 9am.

So, cause and effect.  I am the cause.  All of this and more would have been avoided had I just locked the attic door.  Had I just thought ahead to what the effect might be with a seven year old imp and cat adventurer in the house.  At least I can hope whatever chain reaction goes off next will not involve sitting in insulation or waking up at 3am.