"Wait a minute. If we let it in, the ship could be infected. You know the quarantine procedure. Twenty-four hours for decontamination." - Sigourney Weaver, from Alien

Last week, our house cat decided she would make an escape to the world that exists beyond her little window in our living room. So intent to stay outside and "live the good life," she actually hissed at us when we dared to attempt a rescue. So we left her under the porch steps...what else could we do? I am beginning to have an understanding of life and the universe, but cats are beyond me. We didn't see her for two days. The kids were through with their crying and worrying and I was a tad bit put out with her for having the audacity to be an animal, (for crying out loud) when we saw her sitting pitiably in the yard.

The children's tears commenced once again with her helpless cries of "you abandoned me out here to forage food all by myself," so to keep peace and harmony in the world (okay, just my household), I asked my husband to pick her up and bring her in. I gently reminded the children that it had been her choice (not ours) to leave the warm and safe confines of our home, but we would not hold that against her. We would welcome her back as though nothing had ever happened. Then we noticed the bump.

For days, we contemplated what could have caused "the bump". Maybe she got poked by the barbed wire and had a bad infection. Maybe some tomcat got hold of her and...well. Or maybe she got stung by something. My husband even suggested she had a grubworm. We stroked her, we pitied her...and she soaked it all up - plotting her next escape, no doubt. We were all full of ideas, but as the week wore on and life with a cat returned to normal, we forgot about it. Until last night, that is. When life as we know it came to a screeching halt and I decided to quarantine her to our bathroom.

Nothing in my bucket o' motherhood could have prepared me for this. We had come home from church and were just settling down to watch a $1 movie from Redbox when K saw it. "The bump" had broken open, y'all. At some point between our arrival back home and the movie, the "thing" had made an escape from our cat's back. I will spare you of the gory details, but Oh my word there was a hole. A rather large one. I had one of those moments. Did you watch "Alien"? Do you remember how everyone thought, "Oh that pesky alien is dead...so there's nothing to worry about!" Little did they know...

I backtracked for 30 minutes looking for the "thing". I wasn't about to have one of my kids meet up with it in the dark (okay, the truth is, I didn't want to meet up with it in the dark). Sadly, I never found our "alien". We resumed watching the movie, but I was unable to fully concentrate on much of anything, because I kept thinking to myself, "Self, there is a grub worm in my house somewhere and it is growing and pulsating and just waiting to sprout into a full blown beetle." I feel so violated. I don't even have any cool weaponry to use to fight it.

Last night, I slept with my shoe under my pillow.



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