Wednesday, May 9, 2012
The Kitty Who Wasn't (Almost)
She was a tiny kitten, probably only 5 weeks old, and seemed to like a place where she could hide and curl up. So we put a towel inside of a small box for her in the master bathroom, something she could crawl in and out of, and would be out of harm's way. I soaked some cat food in a little water until it was mashable, and she ate it up. I left a nightlight on and closed the door to the bathroom, and she was quite content there all night long.
This morning, I opened the door so she could explore some while we got the kids ready for school. Kirby went in and sat in the floor watching her, even placing the food dish within her reach. As I continued with our morning routine, I heard the toilet flush in the bathroom. I hollered to Kirby, "What are you doing in there?" Todd, who was in the kitchen with me, joked, "Nothing Mom, I'm just flushing the kitty down the toilet." But as he went to investigate, it quickly became more than a joke.
From the kitchen, I heard Todd asking Kirby, "Did you flush the kitty down the toilet?"
Kirby repied, "Yes!"
I rushed into the bathroom. Todd asked again, "Did you flush the kitty down the toilet?"
"Yes," Kirby said again. I searched the bathroom for anywhere the kitty could have been hiding. No kitty--anywhere. Todd put his ear up to the side of the toilet, listening for any sounds. Nothing. We stood and looked at each other in disbelief, mouths gaping open. My heart was racing, my legs turned rubbery, a warm, sick feeling came over me. I couldn't believe this! We asked Kirby several more times if he had put the kitty in the toilet and flushed him down. Each time, his answer was "Yes".
The next 20 minutes or so are a blur to me. We load the kids up for school. Kirby is talking, but I'm not hearing anything he's saying. All I can think about is the poor kitten being flushed down the toilet. How horrible! Todd, Corey, and I are just sitting in the van stunned at what had just happened. Nobody is saying a word. Having just gotten the kitten last night, we hadn't become attached enough to shed tears over her. But I had the most sickening feeling in my whole body. I couldn't escape the image of this poor kitten being flushed down the toilet. I felt very near a full-blown panic attack.
After all the kids had been dropped off, we return to the house. We both walk in, and go straight to the bathroom. Why, I don't know. Returning to the crime scene? Maybe. We quietly stand over the toilet. I hear a faint "meow". I ask Todd, "Did you hear that? I heard a meow!" Then we both hear another one, very faintly. "Oh my gosh! I hear it!" I said. Todd reaches back to turn off the water to the toilet. He guesses it's probably stuck in the S-shaped part in the base. He runs off to get some tools to take the toilet apart, while I began quickly moving things out of the way. Then, we hear another meow, but it's a little louder this time. Todd follows the sound to the rocking chair, just outside of the bathroom door. He looks behind the chair. "Mama", he said, as he pulls the kitten up from her hiding place.
She was dry as a bone, and perfectly fine.
What more can I say?
I guess Kirby has a wild (sick) imagination.