ninja cat with an imagined vendetta

Ok, so why the heck does my husband’s stupid cat like to sit outside the bathroom door while I am in there? It’s more than a little creepy when you open the door and the cat is staring accusingly at you. What’s going through her little pea brain? Is she mad at me because I left her alone? She’s a freakin cat! She should like to be left alone. But no, we have the cat who bounds towards the door like a loopy Labrador whenever he comes home. For me she just looks mildly disgusted. But really, what’s with the hanging out in front of the bathroom?

And I swear she’s trying to make me paranoid. I was getting ready to take a shower, dancing a little to some Black Eyed Peas (please withhold judgment) when the bathroom door jumps and the handle rattles. Frozen in mid I-AM-Freaky-Fergi pose, heart now in throat, I stared uncomprehending at the door. Violently swinging it open I looked for the cat, the usual suspect; she was in the kitchen eating, also as usual. So I imagined it, right? Thirty seconds later it happened again, and she was still in the kitchen, stuffing her fat face, barely taking time to stop and look at me like I was high on catnip.

By then I was thinking, do I beat the cat without evidence? It seemed like something she would do – slam her bovine-like body against the door she’s been loitering in front of all day - just to see what her human’s witless mate would do. How would she have gotten back to the kitchen so fast, though? But the alternative to a ninja cat with an imagined vendetta was scarier: a poltergeist was just not what I needed right then. So my ever rational mind decided it must’ve been the neighbors slamming their front door too hard, again, and making the walls shake. It was either that or freak myself out so bad that I ended up hyperventilating in the shower and drowning in an inch of water.

I still think it was her, though.