You say goodbye.
I say hello.
However you want to put it, it happened here in the black hole just outside of Harmony Grove.
My sweet Sven got in his truck to do his, "I am going to town," stuff. Which means grabbing a cup of coffee at the gas station and taking a cruise.
With no feet to go around I pulled the vacuum cleaner out and began sucking up dog biscuit and cat treat crumbs from the rug.
Grandma Meow Moses our geriatric cat, was making her way up the steps to the loft, while Hunter, the world famous tug-o-war champ back in his day, and the worst guard dog still to this day, was hunkered in his, "Oh shit she has the vacuum out," spot.
An interesting detail about our bathroom door is that Tuna, who would be the other cat who lives here, the young debonair punk, who just moved in one day a year before Grandma showed up with suitcases and nowhere else to go, is able to pick the lock.
But my sweet Sven came up with a solution.
"I could move the strike plate down a little."
"Okay," I said.
"Or we can just pull up on the door knob when we close it so that it catches."
I pulled up on the doorknob while a debonair punk slept in the basket of towels behind it.
That is when I went to the basement and retrieved Grandma from her fancy apartment that had once been a sauna.
She drank her morning treat of milk and wandered up the steps to the loft to lay in the sunshine while I mindlessly sucked up the daily mess that would not exist without the two cats and dog that I have just mentioned.
And then something black. Or was it white? Slinked through the living room.
That is all that came to my mind and out my mouth.
I dropped the hose and left the vacuum running.
I was right.
The prisoner had escaped.
I crept slowly down the stairs behind Tuna to the basement door which was wide open.
He stood there in the doorway to Grandma's world with wild eyes, ready for a surprise attack from a little old lady in pearls, as I closed the door behind his ass.
I went back upstairs and continued with my vacuuming all the while Grandma and Hunter were unaware of the precarious situation that had just occurred.
Sven walked in the door and set his coffee on the island.
"Welcome to opposite day," I said.
"What does that mean?"
And then Grandma pranced by.
"Hi Grandma," he says.
Grandma didn't answer. Not because she is rude. Because she is deaf.
Although she can be rude.
"Tuna must be outside," says Sven.
"If he were outside, the beware of Grandma sign would be hanging on the door."
"Like I said. It is opposite day."
"Do you mean Tuna is in the basement?"
"That's kind of funny."
"I know. Except I don't know how to reverse the universe."
That is when Sven came up with a brilliant plan.
He shut the door to my office since Grandma had curled up in the box on my desk.
And then he says, "Okay you can go down and get Tuna now."
When I say his plan was brilliant, what I meant was that he was smart enough to send me down after the punk.
I cautiously opened the door at the bottom of the steps.
There he was crouched on the other side of it, ready to spring into action.
Disappointment flashed in his eyes.
It was only me.
And I would probably ruin everything.
I started up the stairs with him.
This is when he went into crazy mode.
Sven opened the door at the top and I tossed him out.
And then I took Grandma back to her fancy basement apartment where I placed her in her heated bed on the cedar shelf.
On the way out of the basement I made sure the door was closed tightly.
Tuna was hanging from the screen door with eyes that said, "WTF!"
His suspicion of our suspicious behavior was more now than just a gut feeling he had been having.
I opened the door.
He landed with a thud and darted down the stairs to save the world from little old ladies.
The door was closed.
Well, apparently Grandma did not stay in her bed as I had suggested.
I don't know every feline word but I do know vulgarity when I hear it.
Those two should both have their mouths washed out with soap.
After a considerable amount of paws under a door, snarls, growls, hissing, spitting and cursing, they gave up and went on their merry ways.
Fortunately the only injury that occurred during the battle of opposite day in the black hole, was to my arm where a certain tooth had been hooked when I tossed a certain cat out the door.
"Sven," I said blotting blood with a paper towel.
"Think you could move that strike plate down a little?"