Dogs Are Good Company

I let my 20 pounds of housecat out through the front door in the predawn darkness—something I regularly do.  Normally, he makes his rounds outside and, after a few minutes, works his way to the back door to come back in.

I didn’t find him at the back door on two trips to check.

Odd.

I walked to the front door and opened it, thinking I might lean out and look around.  I barely cracked the door open before my cat exploded through the opening and dashed to the center of the living room.  I immediately slammed the door closed without looking outside.  When I glanced back at the cat again.  He stood in rigid stance, staring at the door as if he expected Satan to bust through at any moment.

“What’s out there, Buddy?” I asked.

The cat cautiously walked back toward the where I stood by the door.  Once alongside me, he alternated between staring at the door and looking out the nearby floor-to-ceiling window.  Total concentration.  Ears on alert mode.

“What in the hell is out there?” I asked.  “What?”  I studied the cat—watched him sniffing at the air now.

I began to imagine creatures that might scare my cat just on the other side of my door: mountain lion, bear, bigfoot, the UPS driver.

I had to open the door. 

Had to.

As I opened the door, my cat backed away.

I timidly peeked around the door.

Nothing.

I leaned outside.

Nothing.

“Hey!” I yelled.

Nothing.

I closed the door and scowled at my 20 pounds of housecat.  “What’s the deal with you?” I asked.

Nothing.

They say dogs are good company.  Cats are weird company.

— Mitchell Hegman