Wednesday, November 01, 2006
Delores is my barometer for evil.
This morning my cat, Delores, lost her mind. For Lola, this is a common event, so I wasn't even noticing her manic behavior as anything worth mentioning. As I'm sitting on the floor in front of my mirror, putting on my face and drinking my morning cup, Delores is panting running up and down and up and down the length of my room (which is very long because it is in the attic and runs the length of the whole abode). Still not that remarkable for an odd duck like Lola. She starts cooing like a pigeon while she paces, which get my attention but only because it is the noise she makes when she wants something from me. She's not by her food bowl so I go on ignoring my sweet little spazmatic darling. It all started to get a bit weird when I noticed what she was cooing and growling at - the door to the crawl-space. Being fond of attics, I've had crawl-spaces in my room before, and never has one made me feel so windblown. Only just then, when I saw in the mirror reflection Delores was walking backward, blinking and making a weird chatter noise she makes when she sees something alive outside a window, mixed with her coo. She approached and recoiled a few times. Hisses and running headbut included (which sounds extreme but actually isn't for Lola). Now, I'm sitting facing the damned crawl-space door, glancing, worried over silly feline behaviors. When I come home from work today and change, I'm sure I will have completely forgotten how the crawl-space moved me and Lola this morning, and it will the no different than any other little door. However, for the time being, I pretty sure there is something mighty Lovecrafitan going on behind that door, complete with hieroglyphs, hidden stairs that descend into the earth, pentagrams, rivers of dried blood, wooden floor boards that ooze with oil, and violins that play people.