No, I’m not in my usual insomniatic haze this morning. Around midnight, I actually felt kind of sleepy, so, in my usual desperate effort to trump my long-standing battle with insomnia, I took a hot bath and slipped into bed beside my husband, and fell, almost smarmily, to sleep. I got about five hours in and found I couldn’t sleep any longer. I win this round.
Or have I?
I wander out of the bedroom in my slippers and my husband’s huge, comfy fleece sweatshirt, because it’s pretty chilly (hey, it’s a Roots shirt my mother sent him last year for Christmas, of course it’s warm!) I put on a pot of coffee and log in to the Dope to see what new and interesting things are going on in the bright, shiny lives of fellow Dopers while I wait for my coffee to brew.
A little behind my chair and to my right are the food and water bowls of my two cats. Within my line of sight is the sofa, where I see my youngest cat curled up on one of her favourite cushions, sound asleep in a tight ball. I can hear my oldest cat over my right shoulder, crunching on her kibbley breakfast. It barely registers with me, as this is just a regular morning sound. I get up and turn off the coffeepot, pour myself a cuppa, and sit back down, thoroughly comfortable and warm now, surrounded by a wonderful morning peacefulness, with no sounds but for the gentle, rhythmic kitten-snore of my youngest cat, and now the quiet lapping up of water from the bowl of my oldest cat, slaking her thirst…
And then it happens. Picunurse is going to have a *field day * with this one.
Very clearly, from over my right shoulder, comes the sound of:
Gargling.
You know the sound of gargling at the beginning of Weezer’s song El Scorcho? Yeah. That kind of sound. It lasts about five seconds, which is an awfully long time in the morning silence, and an eternity to me, who has suddenly frozen in my seat, with the hairs on the back of my neck standing up, coffee cup suspended (in disbelief!) midway between the table and my mouth. Too frightened to laugh at the absurdity of the sound, I turn, very slowly, to look over my right shoulder.
My oldest cat is looking over her left shoulder, sitting in front of her water dish. She still has a tiny droplet of water on her chin. The look on her face is curious, even for a cat - she’s not turned all the way around; she looks just like she’s glancing at me to see if I noticed. I can see the whites of her eyes as she gives me a look that says, simply, “What?” in that quaint way we humans have of humanising our animals. For all the world it sounded as though she had just gargled her water.
Naturally, logic kicked in quickly, and I scanned the area around her for something that could possibly have made the noise. I’m coming up empty. The cat bowls are next to the cupboards, but there is nothing in there but pots and pans. There’s hardly any food, since I buy our groceries on a daily basis to avoid overconsuming. The sink and dishwasher are there, however, so I must assume it was something to do with one of those things. Whatever it was, it sounded almost exactly like this. (WAV file - gotta love Google for helping me find a gargle noise.)
Damn. Ballard is weird. [sub] Shit, that’s the answer, right there! There must have been a Scandinavian outside my kitchen window. Again. Getting ready to play his Alpenhorn, or yell “Riiiiiicola!”[/sub] :smack:
Anastasaeon, my dear, you have answered all the sound questions in that one word. Ballard.
