Sweet Journeys

     As the drunken patrons grew louder trying to drown each other out in the cramped quarters of the basement bar, I looked at my husband Jack and saw my feelings on his face.  “Do you miss the kittens?” I asked, thinking he’d pooh-pooh the idea.  “Yeah, I kind of do,” he said, with a wry smile.  We’d just adopted two kittens the week before and they’d already taken fast hold of our hearts.  “I was just thinking about us calling home and one of the kittens answering.”  I giggled at Jack’s thought and expanded on it.  “I can just see Juno, the little stinker, picking up the phone and answering, “Miss Kitty's House of Torture” in her squeaky little voice, then snickering like an old man at his clever deeds.”   My husband’s eyes sparkled as this vision gave him a tickle.  “We’d hear our good little girl, Luna, giggling in the background, then CLICK and Juno would hang up the phone.”  We laughed at our silliness and agreed that this wouldn’t be a night of wild frivolity when our hearts were clearly at home.  I gathered my coat and purse and we slipped out the back door, stopping first to say goodnight to some friends and thank them for inviting us out.

     We returned to a quiet home, lights out and kittens fast asleep.  A few toy mice and a black shoelace lay scattered around the living room floor; the only evidence of any shenanigans.  After settling on the couch for some good movie viewing, the kittens woke, peeked out from under the end table with sleepy kitten eyes, stretched languorously and slowly made their way over to settle on our laps.  Another peaceful night at home.

     I awoke from dreams of black and grey cats in bolero hats, swinging on telephone chords while smoking cigars.  Gently lifting Luna from my lap and placing her on the couch, I turned the television off and woke Jack so we could retire to our bed.  Remembering that we hadn’t checked for voicemails after returning home from the bar, I stumbled into the kitchen, switched on the light and called to my husband, “Honey, come in here, quick!” 

     A small glass of grape juice that had been sitting on the counter had been knocked over and sticky purple paw prints surrounded the glass, trailed across the telephone receiver, which was sitting slightly askew, and faded as they got nearer the dining room doorway.   Stepping over the sticky prints, I picked up the receiver to wipe it off thinking their crime must have happened before we got home or we would have heard the annoying buzz from its sitting off the hook.  I checked for voicemails and accidentally hit the button for calls that were sent.  Jack’s cell phone number was listed but I didn’t remember having called him. 

     “Honey, will you check your phone for voicemails because it shows here that a call was made to your phone tonight?”  Setting down a now grape juice dirtied rag, he retrieved his phone, checked for voicemails and said, “Weird.  It shows a call coming from home but I never heard the phone.”  His look was one of shock as he said to me, “It says I received the call shortly before we came home.”  I nearly dropped the receiver as the impossible seemed almost possible.  Movement caught our eyes and we both looked to the doorway and the sight of two tails, one black and one grey, twitching a few beats then quickly disappearing from sight.