I was working in the computer room last evening. Laurie-dog was resting at my feet and Peanut was coming and going. At one point, he was jumping up and down in the hallway, skittering about, pouncing. I laughed out loud because the chubby guy was animated and having such fun. He’ll often get that way when he’s found a bug of some sort…a spider…and sometimes a pair of socks.
Continuing with my work, it wasn’t until later that I left the computer room, intending to go to the red couch and finish off my finger exercises for the day. Just rounding the corner from the computer room, I saw what looked like a tyrannosaurus rex in miniature, supposing it to be an old toy belonging to my son.
With my socked foot, I gave the toy a couple of sweeps with my foot and then instantly shrieked. It was as though everything came into focus with the weight of the object, the resistance of the object and the obvious bad damage done to the scruffy wee body. I ran down the stairs to the next level shouting, "DAM CAT!" as Peanut ran back up to the victim.
I began my ‘quiet self talk’ moment…"Perhaps IT IS something else. Perhaps you’re over reacting. Get control of yourself!" As I looked toward the living room, the front door to the outside was open a good foot and the cold night air was blowing in. "PEANUT!" I shrieked, while slamming the door shut, grabbing the phone and heading for the lower levels, shutting Laurie-dog, the cat and the shredded body of the newcomer upstairs.
My son had hopped on his bike two hours earlier and had gone to visit his friend. My daughter was out for the evening as well. Alone in the house, (the setting for a small murder), the cat meowing on the other side of a closed door. I had no idea if he was taking his catch on a tour, room-to-room. I only knew that I couldn’t face it.
In the end, both children found their way back to me, having shared in a similar summer experience. My son would definitely have to be deemed the hero as he took control of scooping the lifeless body into a bag and disinfecting the area. Last night I found out that my kids ARE my soft place to fall…they DID come through for me when I was in a ridiculous state of hysteria. Otherwise, I might still have myself locked in the basement. OR would I have eventually found my way to my ‘strong place’ and disposed of the poor thing myself? Let’s hope we never have to find out!