So I got home from my girlfriend’s place last night, picked up my cat Porkchop, petted her for a bit, then sat down at the computer for some site design work. Porkchop wandered into the kitchen to eat (again, the little pig.)
I happened to glance into the kitchen just in time to see her whirl around, stare directly at me with her ears plastered to her skull, hiss viciously, and begin growling menacingly in the back of her throat.
I pushed my chair back and made as if to get up, and she jumped about a foot in the air, and came down with her tail huge and stiff. I got up to go see what was wrong with her, but instead of bolting, she acted extremely aggressive, baring her teeth, growling loudly, and hissing several more times.
At this point, I couldn’t remember whether I had unlocked my door when I got home, so I was wondering if there was somebody in the place besides me. I repaired to the closet to fetch my Remington 870 12-gauge, pretty well convinced in the furthest caveman recesses of my brain that calamity was at hand. I inspected the apartment thoroughly, checked both doors, and looked out my windows.
Nothing unusual at all.
Uneasily, I went to bed, and I was dragged awake at least twice by what I thought was a gunshot a block or two away (actually not that unusual in my neighborhood, unfortunately. We have a notorious nightclub just across downtown from us,) and later by what I thought was a scream outside my window. In both cases, after inspecting the outside, I could find nothing at all wrong.
In both cases, when I looked for Porkchop, she was balled up in her “safe place” in the closet behind my backpack, pupils huge and ears laid flat against her head.
This morning, I woke to find her curled up in her usual place, snuggled up against my back on the bed. She purred freely when I touched her.
She’s not normally a psycho kitty. She’s extremely easy-going, if kittenish. She loves to play, and she doesn’t have an ounce of “aloof kitty” in her.
What the HELL was in the air last night?