The Grind
The boiling potatoes hissed on the stove, pulling me out of my trance. It had been a long day at work, and, once again, I was eating dinner past 9:00 …. something I loathed doing. Bone tired, I ached to be soothed by my cool, clean sheets and goose down pillows.
After my Persian cat Leo and I ate a rather ho-hum dinner, we trudged upstairs, consumed by thoughts of a hot shower and curling up with a good book.
Rats! I just remembered. I must sit down at my desk and pay some bills first. As if reading my mind, Leo bent his hind legs, flew through the air, and with a THUD landed squarely on top of my checkbook. Clearly, he wanted some lovin'.
I looked into his slits-for-eyes that nestled in his little orange, flat face. "Leo, get down," I cooed. He didn't do what I asked. Instead, he worked up a steady purr. I continued. "Leo, I mean it. With that, he stood up, leapt off the desk, and enjoyed a soft landing on my workout bag. Happy with his new resting place, he assumed the shape of a furry "C" and got back to the business of purring.
Suddenly …. an unexpected sound came out of nowhere:
G-R-R-R-R-I-N-D.
WHAT WAS THAT?!? I spit the words in a panicky voice toward my furry friend. "That’s the garage door opening," I answered myself. Then my thoughts came in a flood: "But, but … who would open my garage door? Was someone after me?? I want my MAMA!!!!!!!" Somehow, in my panic, I was able to glance down at Leo and see him doing the thing I loved most: he was kneading. Right paw, left paw, right paw, left. I was jealous of that workout bag, because I LOVE it when Leo treats me to a kitty back rub. G-R-R-R-R-I-N-D … My wishful thinking was rudely interrupted, because THAT, my kind reader, was the scary sound of the garage door closing.
I stopped breathing.
Here was the picture in my head: I guessed that a burgler/murderer had somehow opened my garage door, gotten in, and now closed it. All he had to do was kick the back door open, dash up the stairs and … I shudder to think what would follow. "Oh, I wish I had a Rottweiler right now," I thought.
My dialing finger shook madly as I pecked out 9-1-1.
"What's your emergency?" the dispatcher asked in a business-like manner. Whispering, I muttered, "S-s-s-s-omeone's in my g-g-g-g-arage." "I'll send an officer immediately," she assured me.
Minutes later, the police arrived, and, after conducting a thorough search inside my garage and all around my condo, they told me there must have been some mistake.
Satisfied we were safe, I made my way back upstairs, Leo dangling under my arm. After gingerly placing him on the carpet, I picked up my workout bag. What's this inside here? I wondered, with a knitted brow. It's the garage door opener with the button facing UP.
Turns out, my little Leo -- with all his pouncing and kneading -- had accidentally made the garage door go up and down. [Students, how would you end this story? Write a conclusion and show me!]
The boiling potatoes hissed on the stove, pulling me out of my trance. It had been a long day at work, and, once again, I was eating dinner past 9:00 …. something I loathed doing. Bone tired, I ached to be soothed by my cool, clean sheets and goose down pillows.
After my Persian cat Leo and I ate a rather ho-hum dinner, we trudged upstairs, consumed by thoughts of a hot shower and curling up with a good book.
Rats! I just remembered. I must sit down at my desk and pay some bills first. As if reading my mind, Leo bent his hind legs, flew through the air, and with a THUD landed squarely on top of my checkbook. Clearly, he wanted some lovin'.
I looked into his slits-for-eyes that nestled in his little orange, flat face. "Leo, get down," I cooed. He didn't do what I asked. Instead, he worked up a steady purr. I continued. "Leo, I mean it. With that, he stood up, leapt off the desk, and enjoyed a soft landing on my workout bag. Happy with his new resting place, he assumed the shape of a furry "C" and got back to the business of purring.
Suddenly …. an unexpected sound came out of nowhere:
G-R-R-R-R-I-N-D.
WHAT WAS THAT?!? I spit the words in a panicky voice toward my furry friend. "That’s the garage door opening," I answered myself. Then my thoughts came in a flood: "But, but … who would open my garage door? Was someone after me?? I want my MAMA!!!!!!!" Somehow, in my panic, I was able to glance down at Leo and see him doing the thing I loved most: he was kneading. Right paw, left paw, right paw, left. I was jealous of that workout bag, because I LOVE it when Leo treats me to a kitty back rub. G-R-R-R-R-I-N-D … My wishful thinking was rudely interrupted, because THAT, my kind reader, was the scary sound of the garage door closing.
I stopped breathing.
Here was the picture in my head: I guessed that a burgler/murderer had somehow opened my garage door, gotten in, and now closed it. All he had to do was kick the back door open, dash up the stairs and … I shudder to think what would follow. "Oh, I wish I had a Rottweiler right now," I thought.
My dialing finger shook madly as I pecked out 9-1-1.
"What's your emergency?" the dispatcher asked in a business-like manner. Whispering, I muttered, "S-s-s-s-omeone's in my g-g-g-g-arage." "I'll send an officer immediately," she assured me.
Minutes later, the police arrived, and, after conducting a thorough search inside my garage and all around my condo, they told me there must have been some mistake.
Satisfied we were safe, I made my way back upstairs, Leo dangling under my arm. After gingerly placing him on the carpet, I picked up my workout bag. What's this inside here? I wondered, with a knitted brow. It's the garage door opener with the button facing UP.
Turns out, my little Leo -- with all his pouncing and kneading -- had accidentally made the garage door go up and down. [Students, how would you end this story? Write a conclusion and show me!]