Things move in my house. The matches were gone for days. Pens disappear. I am constantly looking for my rings. My meat defrosting in the sink disappears. Muffins bagged on the counter disappear. Glasses disappear, or at least get tipped over. Paper isn’t safe. Tubes, bottles, bottle caps, and hair accessories of all kinds disappear.
It is as if these things fall into an alternate dimension. Maybe they fall through a hole in the space-time continuum. It is a dilemma. I quiz every living being in the household. Blue, our gray cat, claims he was outside. Penny, our little old lady, says she’s been tied up, and what’s with that? Penny claims it has been days since she’s made any kind of mess at all. Brutus, the Boston Terror, says he was closed into his crate for the night. That leaves only one possibility.
“Couldn’t be me Mom, I’m sleeping,” says Shadow.
Even if I’d been watching, I wouldn’t see Shadow do anything wrong. For one, she is my adorable, affectionate kitty who I claim as a service animal, because she is the one who just makes me so happy when I am sad, keeps me company when I am lonely, and makes me smile even if I get angry.
Of course, even watching her, Shadow is sometimes very difficult to see. Shadow blends into the shadows, and looks like a hole in the fabric of space-time herself. Photographic evidence is inconclusive. Shadow’s dark color absorbs all surrounding light, and her features can be difficult to make out.
For now, I guess I’ll give Shadow the benefit of the doubt. There is one person I haven’t questioned, and that is Hubby. Why Hubby would want to put things under the stove and refrigerator, behind the sofa, under the end tables, and give the animals our steaks and muffins from the counter, and knock over all the glasses or onto the floor is a little beyond my comprehension.
What could Hubby be doing with my hair accessories? It is a mystery.