Saturday, August 29, 2009

Lauren Goes to Church and Scraps Gets Saved.


(Scraps, relaxing after her evening of caged freedom)



I know this is not going to be very entertaining for anyone but Tim and myself, but I am going to plow ahead anyway. 

Last night our friend Mike Schreiber had an art show in our neighborhood. Our neighborhood is Greenpoint Brooklyn which has the highest concentration of  Polish people outside of Poland itself. Since stereotypes and mostly true, this means there are lots and lots of liquor stores with refrigerators full of pints of cheap vodka, meat stores with sausage filled window displays and churches with rectories next door. Mike's art show was in one of these rectories, well a convent, but I am not entirely sure what the difference is. Male vs. female maybe? Anyway, we were in the girl one, but there weren't any nuns there because the whole thing has been empty for years. It was a really incredible space- 4 floors of nooks and crannies with peeling paint. There was a cork memo board and hooks where the nuns hung their coats. The rooms were obviously set up for single beds only and there were still some of their nightlights (nunlights) plugged in. But the most fascinating room was definitely the bathroom.  There was a claw foot tub that still had rings in it. Nun rings. If tub rings are anything like tree rings then by my calculation, the last nun to take a bath must have been at least 93 years old. 

To continue the theme of privacy invasion, which is what I felt like I was doing the whole time in the convent, I am going to relay how I later came to commit a B&E. 

After the art show we all went to a bar/after party sort of thing and Tim and I didn't end up getting home until about 1:30 am. We were deep in some sort of discussion as we unlocked the building and began walking up the stairs to our 3rd floor apt. It must have been the sound of our voices that triggered a very loud and distressed call for help in the form of a MEOOOOOW! This 'mommie help me' plea increased in frequency and volume as Tim and I exchanged looks, knowing exactly what this meant. It meant that our cat Scraps, who is on the very last of her 9 lives, had once again become too curious for her own good and ended up somewhere she no longer wished to be. Yesterday night that place was our next door neighbors apartment, an apartment that had its adjoining back porch door open earlier when I left to go to the art show-around 7 pm, but had since shut the back door so its residents could go out and have a fun Friday night themselves-which they were still out having.  

This has happened before. One time our neighbor came home and found her asleep in his attic where he has his bedroom set up. Many times I have called her for dinner and she has come running out of their window. Honestly, I was not surprised that she had wound up in there, again, but I was certainly concerned with how we were going to get her out because she had possibly been locked inside for 6 hours and Scraps has a bladder that she uses for evil when she is angry. And she was angry. 

I tried ringing the doorbells , then tried the knobs. The only response I got was a volley of MEOOOOOOOW's which resonated throughout the silent building. So I walked to the back of the apt, out the back door (Scraps was helpfully following my footsteps through the walls and continuing to scream to let me know she was still dissatisfied), over the railing and tried their back door. Locked. Shit. If the window doesn't work then my only other option is to go on the roof and through their skylight into their attic. Without a net. Otherwise, when they get home and open their front door a flood of angry cat pee will pour out of the place. Luckily the window was open and after much finagling I managed to get the screen up. Seeing that she was going to be rescued after all, Scraps began rubbing herself on the furniture and purring instead of coming over to me so I could grab her and yank her out of the apartment before I got caught with my head in some dude's bedroom. Finally, and luckily without police involvement, I managed to coax her over, grab the scruff of her neck and throw her back onto our side of the porch. I hurriedly put everything back in its place and had just gotten back in our apartment when I heard one of our unsuspecting next door neighbors coming up the stairs- miraculously spared the vision of a girl with half of her body inside of his bedroom window holding a freshly murdered cat in her hands. 

1 comment:

  1. Well, it's about time there was an update on this quote/unquote blog. Geez. I've been waiting here for like two months.

    This story nearly rivals the reverse mohawk.

    ...nearly.

    ReplyDelete