Bravery

Yesterday, I was standing at the kitchen counter, chopping onions for the crock pot when my cat made a bizarre "Ya-rowl" sound and came bolting out of the basement - claws scrabbling madly on the wood floor.

I didn't pay her too much attention because she often bolts, terrified, out of the basement after she has used the litter box.

A moment later she let out yet another of those "Rowl!" sounds and I turned to see her scrabbling madly out from behind the open basement door.

Concerned, I approached the door, expecting to see a large bug or a toy lodged somewhere unreachable by kitty paws.

I noticed a small black mass, about the size of a bar of soap, on the floor by the door.

I stopped dead in my tracks.

Mouse?

It wasn't moving.

I glanced down at my hand and discovered I was still holding the large kitchen knife.

Eek! I thought, What the hell are you going to do with that? and I hurriedly dropped it on the cutting board.

I turned again to face the small black thing on the floor.

It still hadn't moved.

I approached it slowly, warily.

If that thing moves I am going to shriek and run. Good plan.

With only a few feet between myself and my unknown visitor, I noticed that it did not appear to have a head, or a tail.

Nor was it really black, but perhaps more like navy blue.

It was a balled up pair of socks, stolen from the laundry basket by a very, very  naughty kitty.