CSI My Bathroom

You know that feeling you get when you wake up in the morning and something is just wrong?

You check the clock and no, you're not late for work, it's Saturday. You check under the covers and you still have your legs. In fact you've still had your legs everyday since the early 80s when you started waking up and freaking out that they'd been amputated in the night - maybe it's time you calm down about that. You check your phone to see if you missed a death phone call (one where someone calls you to let you know someone is not. . . you know if you can't figure it out, I'm not gonna explain it for you), but no. Everyone is still alive. The dog is fine and breathing, the sun is up like it's supposed to be but. . .

And then it hits you.

Where is the cat?

And who set the alarm to play Ace of Base EVERY MORNING?

(I mean seriously. Every morning? I love them, but a girl can only hear The Sign a certain number of times before she wants to claw her own eyes out. I'd take a little Wilson Phillips now and again. Hold on to One More Day?

I know that there is change.

Butcha.

Hold on for one more day.

Breakfree from the chaaaaaange.

(and then I skip straight to the breakdown part of the song because it's just too damn good, and I love it so much I can't waste my love on the boring parts of the song) ).

(the amazing starts at 2:33 and ends at 3:20)

However these guys kinda make the whole song bearably amazing. Especially the ending.

Anyway, I woke up feeling weird and then realized I couldn't find James. And THEN realized there was blood all over my bathroom floor. Not the hall, or the bedroom, or anywhere but the bathroom. It was like someone knew they were going to murder, and so they covered themselves up in saran wrap and surgeon booties and then Dexter-ed the shit out of my bathroom but ran out of time to clean up.

Now that James is an outdoor cat he is out and about in the elements all night, and occasionally returns home muddy, and scraped up, and soaked even though it hasn't rained (sprinklers set off while he was robbing a bank?) but he usually checks in and sleeps at my feet still (proving he loves me even though he's free to run away, which just makes me more insanely in love with him/9,000 times more likely to be a crazy cat lady sooner than I thought) but not last night. Last night he didn't check in.

Or did he?

Now, let my backtrack by saying the blood on the floor was not startling to me. At first. Because he's left blood on the floor before, but never this much. I did a fair amount of panicking/expecting to see his head in the bathtub staring out at me, but just as I was about to call the police (logic not abundant when I'm tired and scared - the police would probably have arrested me for calling them) guess who came sauntering into the house all sleepy and cute?

Anyway, long story short: James is alive. But several mice are not.

Turns out, James was just a serial killer trapped in a Chicago apartment for too long with nothing to kill. He probably would have turned on me if we'd stayed a little longer, because clearly that little sucker has a taste for blood, and it wouldn't have been easy to overpower me and carry me around the place with his tiny little jaws, but he would have figured out a way because he's obviously a sociopath.

A sociopath who is the cutest little sociopath around!

I tried to take a picture buy my camera died, and my cell phone now refuses to take pictures, so instead I drew this diagram of what I saw so you too can know the horror I felt at 6am Monday morning.

(I'm considering applying for a job as a sketch artist for the FBI)