Remember last week when I had a visitation by a ghost cat while my husband was out of town?
I think we have solved the mystery of what was actually in bed with me if it wasn't my cat, who was actually across the house meowing her ass off in the middle of the night for no good reason.
You're not going to like this. Trust me, I didn't.
The other night my husband I and were awakened at 2am by a terrible, truly awful noise that involved a gross amount of licking combined with a grisly crunching. After much going back and forth about what it was and hoping it might stop, I finally got up and put the light on to see what was going on.
I found my kitty cat, the same one featured in my book by the way, on the floor at the foot of the bed enjoying a late-night snack of fresh lizard.
This was no ordinary lizard. This was a giant, fat, squishy lizard of the species that we Floridians call "curly tails." They are horrid things and they like coming in my house and apparently my cat thinks they taste good, except for their heads, because she left that part behind for me.
The lizard was big enough that if it had jumped on my bed, in my sleepy haze I could have easily mistaken it for a cat landing on the bed. If the lizard walked on the bed, I could have easily believed it to be cat paws because my cat treads very lightly. Plus I was asleep.
So yeah, I was in bed with a lizard. The lizard was probably hanging out in my room for a few days, unable to get back outside and met his demise when my cat caught him and ate him during his midnight explorations.
Thanks, kitty. I mean that sincerely, in spite of your poor table manners.