Early Morning Freak-Out

This morning the garage door started to open. As we were in bed at the time, you can imagine that it slightly freaked us out. Or, rather, it freaked me out because I was the only one who heard it. 

"Rick!" I said in a scream-whisper, "Someone's opening the garage door!" We both sprang out of bed to investigate. Rick grabbed a billy-club flashlight that is about a foot long, made of hard metal, and which requires something like six batteries. As we've never had that many fresh batteries at one time, we've never used it for light. But it makes a great weapon even without all the batteries. When I'm holding that thing, I imagine myself as a British police officer on patrol. I clutch my "billy club" (aka flashlight) in one hand while hitting it against the palm of my other hand. It makes a satisfying smack and inspires me to say things like, "Well, well, well. What have we here?"     

But this morning Rick had the flashlight, not me. Which was fine, because I wanted to be the one to call the police if he really did find someone and knocked them senseless. If I were to call the police, it would be my third attempt in my lifetime. I made the first call when we lived in student housing and heard a scratching at the door. When we looked through the peephole, no one was there. My fingers shook as I dialed the magic numbers. "Someone's trying to get into our apartment," I whispered into the phone. 

"Tell me what's happening," the voice on the line said. So I described the scratching noise, how it had continued despite my husband banging on the door with his fist and yelling in his mean-man voice, "Get the hell away from my house!" which struck me as funny, because we didn't live in a house. But I chose not to laugh, and I chose not to correct my husband, because I could see the veins bulging in his arm as he attacked the door, and his eyes had taken on a crazy red glow. Plus, the sinister scratching had briefly stopped. But then it started up again. 

"I want to keep you on the line," the police dispatcher said quietly, "keep talking." So I did. And that's when my husband got so frustrated that he finally opened the door. This was before the big flashlight, so he had no really good weapon, aside from his rage. But it turned out that he didn't need one. There, on the doormat, sat a mouse. Although it did have beady little eyes, they were not full of malice or even mischief. The mouse looked up at Rick, its whiskers twitching, the brown fur covering its body quivering. And then there were the eyes, unblinking and blank. I saw no intelligence there, no evil plot to enter our home and kidnap the baby. It occurred to me that if the mouse were in a comic strip, there would be an empty bubble above its head where words should have been.  

"Are you all right?" the dispatcher asked with worry. "What's happening now?" 

I realized that I had gone silent. Suppressing the urge to giggle, I said, "Uh, never mind." And then I hung up. I won't tell you how Rick killed the mouse. Or how he cleaned up the guts smashed into the doormat. Or that he later suspected it wasn't a mouse at all, but the neighbor's pet hamster. I won't describe these things because today's post was supposed to be about this morning. So let's get back to that.  

When Rick flung open the door from the house to the garage, no one was there. However, the outside door was about a quarter of the way up. Just enough for someone who had been hiding in the garage to make a quick getaway, I thought aloud. My husband pointed out that no one would take the risk of pressing the button to open the door a little, then pressing the button again to make it stop, counting on there being enough time to actually leave before someone discovered their presence. I had to admit he was right, which I hate doing. But it was early and my brain was still foggy, so the admission didn't bother me as much as it would have when I was fully awake.

I briefly considered the possibility that our cat had pressed the button. Yes, you heard me right. Our cat. But that would be silly, right? Because for one thing her arm isn't long enough to reach the door opener. And I don't think her aim is good enough to have made a series of leaps at the thing in hopes of flinging her body at it with enough force to depress the button. And surely she would have made some noise, at the very least a frustrated "me-ow" as she hit the wall. Also, I remembered that when I heard the door open, she was stretched out on my neck sleeping deeply and I had to shove her aside to get up. But it would have been fun to tell people we caught a cat burglar--literally.

So, with no explanation for what or who could have opened our garage door, we trudged upstairs back to bed. Or at least Rick did. I couldn't sleep, so I made my way back to the office to write about the incident. On the way, I found a plastic light saber on the floor. I should have picked that up as a weapon on the way to the garage, I thought to myself. But then I realized that a plastic light saber would have done nothing to protect my family against a thief or murderer. I mean, our light saber doesn't even light up or make a noise. And even though my boys have taught me some impressive moves that involve spinning and using a slicing action against your opponent, in the face of real danger it would have inspired nothing more than laughter. Unless, of course, you're a mouse.

 

Comments

[shelby]

I thought the same thing as Mary B. Growing up, we used to have our garage go up and down everyday when a neighbor left for work in the morning. My room was right over the garage so I felt it every morning and I knew it wasn't my dad because we didn't keep our cars in the garage. Now that I think of it, I never even mentioned it to my parents. And we lived there for 6 years... probably should've mentioned something. Glad there was no freak mouse coming to attack!

[Nicole]

Don't feel bad about thinking your cat opened the garage...my cat can open the door from our garage to the house. She jumps up and holds onto the handle over and over until it opens! Wonder-Cat!!

[MaryB]

Remember in San Diego when a plane would fly over the house just right and our garage door would open? That's weird stuff. Or maybe you have a nearby neighbor who's garage opener is set just like yours so their opener works on yours too? Or, did you ever see that commercial where the guy is flipping the switch in his house to figure out what it goes to and every time he does, the neighbor's garage door goes up and down? I'm sure it would be a hassle, but maybe you could turn your opener off (or unplug? or lock?) at night.