Houdini Cat

I officially own Houdini Cat. Just when I figure out where he is hiding, he goes and finds another place to disappear to. It usually takes me a bit to find him, but ultimately I do.

Saturday we had a discussion about him hiding behind the dryer - I won. then we had a discussion about him hiding underneath the furnace pipe - I thought I won. But in the end he knew my disdain for copious amounts of dirt and dust webs, so he won. This now adds a new layer of responsibility - hoping he doesn't get burned by the furnace.

I honestly thought owning a cat would be all love and sunshine and a very rewarding experience. So far, I think the cat hates me. The only rewards I have reaped are re-insulating a segment of wall that he tore the insulation out of, making sure he hasn't burst into flames from hanging out under the furnace pipe, and picking cat piss clumps out of the litter box. I am also convinced that the reason the cat hangs out in the furnace room so much is that he is trying to learn how to sever the gas line so that I will meet an untimely explosive death in my sleep.

But, overall the cat appears to be healthy. I can't entirely tell if he is eating, but he manages to keep up enough strength to scratch the crap out of my arms whenever I try to hold him.

Despite my rant, I am glad I have him. He is making me be a more responsible individual particularly since I now have to check behind the dryer every time I wash my socks n scivvies. As I thought about his relative safety whilst hanging out behind the dryer, I thought about dryer safety in general - particuarly that one fateful weekend. It was the first weekend I was living on my own when I started university.

I remember the day well, the year was 1988 and it was one of those perfect September days where the sky was blue, there wasn't a cloud to be seen, and I frittered it away by doing my laundry. My roommate, Mary, had gone home for the weekend, so I was home all by myself.

Things were going very well, I had done a wash load and transferred it over to the dryer. I had just finished putting in the next load of washing when my box of Bounce fell off the back of the dryer. I went around to retrieve the box when all of a sudden the dryer started shaking profusely and practically started to walk across the floor. I thought "how strange, I know that washers do this, but I did not realize dryers did this." After much shaking, the dryer quit. I thought "well that didn't seem to take very long, but thank goodness it is done." I reached down to open the door, but stopped suddenly due to the thick, dark grey, pungent cloud of smoke billowing out of the back of the dryer.

"CRAP the dryer caught fire!"

Oh God oh God oh God oh God! What do I do! Think, think, think...... Ok, rip the clothes out of the dryer to remove the "fuel". Done.

CRAP, smoke is still billowing out of the back. What do I do? Think, think, think...... call the fire department!

Recall that the year is 1988 and I came from a farm. Back in those days on the farm we did not have 9-1-1, and that an actual telephone number was proudly displayed on a sticker on the phone with an emergency location code to give to the operator.

I ran upstairs, picked up the phone and looked for the sticker.

CRAP there is no sticker on the phone! What do I do? Think, think, think...... Look in the phone book.

CRAP can't find the number. What do I do? Think, think, think...... Run downstairs and check the situation.

CRAP smoke is still billowing out of the back of the dryer.
CRAP what do I do?
CRAP what am I still doing in the house?!?!?!?!

As I ran up the stairs and out of the house I thought to myself "Go to the neighbours and get them to call the fire department" So I ran down the driveway and noticed a man walking down the street. ....

Imagine the man walking down the street. A rough looking character, if you will, with a black leather jacket slung over his back. He was having such a lovely time staring at the clear blue pleasant sky. He even looked like he was singing a happy tune in his head. He was walking with one of those slow relaxed saunters taking in the sights right up until he saw a young woman standing in the driveway yelling:

HEY YOU!!! CALL THE FIRE DEPARTMENT!!! MY DRYER IS ON FIRE!!!

man: WHAT?!
me: CALL THE FIRE DEPARTMENT!!! MY DRYER IS ON FIRE!!!
man: Well let me look at it.
me in my head: Perhaps you should run up to the 7-11 at the corner and get some marshmallows so you can roast them over my sweat socks!
me actually saying: JUST CALL THE FIRE DEPARTMENT
man: Relax! Let me look at it!
me: fine

By the time we got inside, smoke had stopped billowing out the back of the dryer. At least it was hanging in a thick pungent cloud at the ceiling of the basement so I did not look like a complete fool.

man: I think it is okay.
me: I think we should call the fire department.
man: just go get a screwdriver and I will open up the back and double check.

I got the screwdriver, he opened the back and checked it out.

man: it's okay, I don't see any fire anymore. I think it was just that the motor blew and what you saw was residual smoke.
me: are you sure?
man: yes
me: ok. Sorry to bother you, you can go now.
man: it's okay, its not every day that I get to be a hero. By the way, for future reference the phone number for the fire department is 9-1-1
me: that works here?

The man shot me a strange look as if to say "Where are you FROM?!?" but then wisely chose to exit the house. I gathered my wet clothes and proceeded to hang them in the back, secretly hoping that no one would steal my scivvies. Its not so much that I would miss the scivvies, it was more that the looming possibility of someone wanting my scivvies just freaked me out. As I hung the clothes, I thought about what could have happened had the whole house burned down. I finished up, and did what all good teenage girls would do in my situation - I sat in the corner on the stairs and cried. Then I thought "I need to talk to Mom. I am going to call her."

I phoned Mom, and her voice sounded rather concerned since I was phoning for the second time that day.
me: Hi Mom
Mom, with hesitation: Hellloooo???
me sobbing: Mom, my...my...my dryer exploded
Mom: OH MY GOD LET ME GET YOUR FATHER!!
me: No Mom, don't get
Mom: AL! LORI'S ON THE PHONE! COME QUICK!
Dad: Hello, what's wrong?
me sobbing: Dad, the dryer exploded.
Dad: WELL WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT ME TO DO ABOUT IT? YOU'RE DOWN THERE AND I AM HERE! GOSH, LORI, THINK!
me: Ok Dad. I feel much better now. I am going to go.

I resumed sitting in the corner crying until my landlady's sister came to the house. She made me a cup of tea, talked to me for a while, calmed me down, and then sent me downstairs to sit in the pungent cloud of smoke to watch TV. The dryer got replaced, but to this day I am still very skiddish about clothes dryers. Perhaps that would explain the piles of laundry that continuously build up on my bedroom floor.