Reflections - A Swish-Rustle Mystery

Ande on the Yoga Mat with JW

Ready to chill one frigid January morning, I settled into a cross-legged position on my yoga mat.

Ande, the biggest of our tabby cats and the one who chose me as his person, plopped down beside me. We listened to Adriene’s soothing voice. I flexed my back in a seated cat-cow pose.

Ande stretched his neck. His head nudged my fingers—resting on my knees—and coaxed me to scratch him. He angled his head so I could reach the spots he preferred.

Since son Charlie was answering customer complaints at Meadville UPS and hubby Spence was driving his Maverick toward Cleveland, I figured Ande wouldn’t be distracted by their noises and scurry away. We could share twenty minutes of calm.

Sunshine streamed through the loft window. I reached my arm skyward for side body stretches. Ande rolled onto his back and lounged in a cat yoga twist—front legs to the right, back legs to the left. We grooved. We flowed.

Swish. Rustle.

Ande’s ears twitched. His body tensed.

Flat Toys - Whale, Elephant, and Frog

In the great room below us, one of Ande’s brothers had probably slid a large, flat toy across the wood floor. I visualized Rills swatting the pink elephant or the green frog with bugs attached by Velcro—both toys covered with ample cat hairs. Perhaps Gilbert batted the sequined blue whale and even pushed his head into the toy’s open mouth. Let the cats play.

I moved with Adriene into tabletop position.

Ande didn’t. He scooted onto the loft bed, scampered across the bedspread to the railing overlooking the kitchen area, and stuck his head between the styles.

Swish. Rustle. Swish.

Ande wouldn’t be so intrigued by a toy. Maybe the cats found a mouse. With the temperatures rising to a mere 10℉ today, a field mouse might have crept inside when either of the fellas had stepped onto the porch this morning. Fine. The cats could handle the uninvited guest. I would finish the routine with Adriene in the loft.

Several downward dogs, forward bends, and mountain poses later, the swish-rustle-swish, swish-rustle-swish-ing intensified.

Ande scampered downstairs.

Curious, I jogged onto the loft bridge and leaned over the railing to peek into the living room side of the area. No cats. I leaned over the kitchen side of the bridge.

Rills Watching

Sitting on their haunches, Rills and Ande stared at Gilbert.

He dragged a blue plastic grocery bag—handle around his neck—past the sink.

I hustled through star and mountain poses faster than Adriene then wished her a hasty namaste. Leaving her mid-flow, I raced down to rescue Gilbert.

Ande and Rills occupied the first floor landing. They stared at Gilbert four steps below. He’d wiggled the bag lower. It draped over his back like a cape. The bag also wrapped around his front leg.

I eased around the cat guards and toward Gilbert

He shuffled lower.

In a yoga-soothing voice, I cooed. “Let me help, Gil.”

He didn’t. He tripped down several steps.

I plunged after, grabbed the terrified cat, and extricated the bag—not easy. He wriggled and I only had one hand for the job. I hugged Gilbert close to calm him. When he relaxed, which seemed to take an hour but was probably only five minutes, I released the noise maker and looked about.

Plastic bags littered the basement floor. They littered the spiral steps. They spread across the kitchen floor. Some were folded or rolled up tight. Others were open and gaped. I collected the souvenirs from Gilbert’s and returned the plastic plunder to its proper place—the lazy Susan cupboard. The two section door hung half open. Even more bags spilled out.