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The Cat’s Meow

She knew all her neighbors considered her to be a little different, well . . . a lot different. She didn’t care. Eunice was her own woman. At seventy years of age she wasn’t going to change for anyone, didn’t have to.
She heard the doorbell ring. She knew it wasn’t social company. Since her mother died, there was no one who wanted to see her. She pulled back the linen curtains barely enough to peek outside.
Larry, the milkman, was walking back to his truck. Eunice’s two quart bottles sat in a neat container with an easy-carry handle. Most customers ordered the plastic containers but Eunice had insisted to the dairy people, "Bring me glass bottles or don’t bring me anything.”
She was wearing her long flannel nightgown so she waited till Larry had driven away before she opened her front door. She stepped out onto her porch and retrieved the milk. Rosie, her cat, meowed as Eunice came back into the house as if asking for a quick sip of the cool white liquid.
“Oh, Rosie, You know this is not for you,” said Eunice.
Rosie licked her lips and gave Eunice a one word response. “Meow.”
Eunice wasn’t sure if it was telepathy or mere compassion she was feeling for her cat, but it felt like they were communicating on some ethereal plane. “Okay, you can have a little, but just this one time okay?”
“Meow,” came the response.
Eunice put one bottle in the fridge and was about to open the second when the doorbell rang again.
“Dammit, who is it now?”
She repeated her technique of peeking out the window. This time there was a young man carrying a briefcase in his left hand. He wore a nice looking blue blazer and grey slacks which were complemented well by his white shirt and red tie. He also wore something unusual out here on the west coast, a cowboy hat. He looked harmless.
She opened the door part way, allowing enough room for her head to stick out. She spoke first.
“What do you want? I already got cable, subscriptions and a new set of knives, so what is it?”
The young man grinned back. “Well, I guess that’s a good thing, but I’m not selling any of those things.”
“Oh, yeah, well what are you selling?”
“My name’s Brian. I’m selling security Ma’am.”
“Securities? I don’t know the first thing about securities. Is that like stocks and bonds?”
“No Ma’am. Not securities like that. I meant security like home security and safety. May I come in and explain?”
“No, you may not.”
The young man was not fazed. “Is your husband home?”
This was not Eunice’s first rodeo with young cowboys like him. She would not tell him she was a single woman, had been single all her life. “No, he’s not.”
“Well then, I’ll tell you what I was planning on telling him.”
“Yes, you can tell me,” she said, opening the door a bit wider.
“I work for a company that sells security alarm systems. It’s especially helpful for people who are elderly or those who live alone.”
She gave him the slightest grin. “So you think I’m elderly?”
“No, Ma’am, but in this crazy world of ours, even young people need to feel secure in their homes. A security system offers quick access to law enforcement or medical emergency personnel, you know like for heart attacks and things like that.”
At her last physical exam her doctor told Eunice she was underweight and possibly anemic. He said he’d have to run more tests. Eunice thought he was crazy and never went back.
The young man must have seen the wheels turning in Eunice’s head because he didn’t give her time to answer. “Not to scare you or anything, but did you know there was a home burglary two blocks away from your house?”
She frowned. “Really? When was that and how come I never heard about it?”
As soon as the words left her mouth she realized this Brian kid might be fibbing to get her to buy something. Then again, she didn’t have a television, much less cable and she didn’t receive a newspaper.
“About a week ago, a Russian family,” he said looking toward the downtown area ten blocks away.
“Yes, that would be the Robinski’s. They’re the only foreigners around here, but I think they’re Polish.”
“Of course. I just know what our main office told me.”
“Oh yeah? What did they tell you about me?”
The young man patted his briefcase. “All I really know about this neighborhood is who has security systems and who doesn’t. All other facts we gather from public sources like radio and TV reports.”
Eunice had heard enough. “Well, thank you for stopping by but I won’t be buying anything today.”
Just then Rosie called out to Eunice as if to remind her about her milk, “Meow.”
Eunice looked down and Rosie scooted from between her legs and ran outside. “Rosie, you get back in here!”
As any respectable cat would do, she ignored her owner.
“Sorry about that, Ma’am. I’ll guess I’ll be leavin’ now.” He tipped his hat cowboy style and walked back to the sidewalk.
Eunice thought it was odd that the young man went directly to his car without knocking on anybody else’s door. Maybe they already have burglar alarms

, she thought. She scanned the yard for Rosie but her kitty had run into the bushes.
Later that afternoon, when Eunice was in her street clothes, she searched for Rosie. She looked under the bushes, under the house, up in the trees, in the neighbor’s yards, everywhere she could think of. She called out to Rosie in her baby voice, but got no response. She tried again after sunset, and still, nothing. She went to the kitchen, rested her face in her cupped hands, then began to weep.
She wasn’t sure how long she’d been stooped over and crying in the kitchen when she realized her back was hurting. She stood and tried to straighten her spine but the pain was too much. She waddled to the door once more, holding on to the furniture for support. She opened the door and called out into the night.
“Rosie! Rosie! Come here honey.”
The crickets and frogs stopped their nocturnal chatter as if deferring to Eunice’s call for her feline friend. When Rosie did not answer, the bugs of the night struck up their symphony of sounds once more.
Eunice swung the door, taking one last peek before it shut, just in case Rosie had decided to come inside. No Rosie.
After Eunice changed back into her nightgown, she opened her bedroom window and peered out into the night. The full moon was providing her with all the light it could, covering everything in a blanket of blue.
Her heart skipped a beat when she saw movement out of the corner of her right eye. She turned in that direction and was disappointed when she caught a glimpse of a raccoon’s tail scurrying into the rhodies.
To relieve her continuing back pain, Eunice took slow, measured steps toward her bed. She eased herself down and laid on her back, staring at the ceiling. Maybe that salesman was right, she thought. I might need some urgent medical assistance someday.
Just then, there was a double knock on the front door, then a triple knock. Eunice knew it could not be Rosie. Her kitty wouldn’t be so loud. Rosie would meow if she was out there. No, this had to be a person knocking. Eunice decided then and there, that she would not answer the door. It was past midnight and no one in their right mind should be knocking on her door at this hour.
She sat up and pulled the blankets close to her chest. The room was darker now. She figured clouds must have blown in because the moonlight was gone.
Then it happened again, two knocks and then three knocks, but this time it was at the back door. This time feisty Eunice did not hesitate.
“Whoever’s out there. Get the hell away from my house! I got a gun and I’m ready to use it!”
She didn’t really have a gun but it was the only thing she could think to say. Could it be the same burglars that broke into the Robinski’s house? What would she do if they did break in? Her hands began to shake and she felt her heartbeat run wild.
Eunice hurried to her bedroom door and locked it. She took a chair and propped it against the doorknob. Then what she feared might happen, did happen. Someone broke the patio glass door with a loud crash.
“I can’t take this anymore,” she said out loud. “That stupid kid was right. I need to call the police.”
She went to her bedside where she kept her rotary dial phone. It was a hand-me-down, but it still worked.
“911 What is your emergency?”
“There’s someone breaking into my house! Send someone over here, right now.”
“Okay Ma’am, calm down. What is your name and where are you?”
“My name is Eunice Brown and I live at 4950 Maple Street. Please hurry, he’s coming into my house!”
“We’re sending someone right now, Ms. Brown. Are you in your bedroom or bathroom? Where in the house are you?”
“I’m in the bedroom. I got the door locked.”
“Good. Stay right where you are. Officers should be arriving in a few minutes, Okay?”
“Okay,” said Eunice. She sat on the edge her bed and answered a lot of the dispatch operator’s questions before she heard the sirens. She heard the bang of her front door as someone kicked it in, then the footfall of heavy boots. They grew louder as they approached her bedroom.
“Mrs. Brown, This is the police! Are you in there?”
“Yes, it’s me. I’m alright.”
“Open the door, please.”
Eunice complied and opened the door. The four officers had their weapons drawn and their flashlights on. She then heard the voice of other men.
“Kitchen’s clear. Living room, clear.”
The officer closest to Eunice spoke to her. “Did you get a look at the person who broke in, Ma’am?”
She looked at him as if stumped by the world’s hardest trivia question. “No, actually I didn’t.”
“Was it just one person or more?”
Before she could answer, there came another question.
“Was this a large person or a small kid?”
Eunice was confused. She put up her hands. “Look, I told you I didn't see him. He could've been skinny or fat. There could've been one or more, I don’t know. All I know is he broke in through the patio glass door, then you guys showed up. That’s it.”
Just then Eunice heard the sweetest sound she’d heard in the longest time - “Meow.”
“Rosie! Come here, darling.”
Eunice picked up her cat and let it cuddle against her neck.
One of the officers in the house called out. “Hey, Sarge. The patio door isn’t broken.”
Then a second officer shouted. “Come check this out in the bathroom. I think I found our burglar.”
Eunice accompanied the officers to the bathroom where the floor was covered with broken glass. Remnants of her favorite glass pitcher lay scattered from wall to wall.
Eunice frowned at the Sergeant.
“So it wasn’t a burglar after all? Wait don’t say it. It was a cat burglar.”
The officers erupted into laughter.
Eunice smiled. It was something she didn’t do often with strangers. “So if it was Rosie, how did she get in the house?”
The Sergeant pointed through the opening in the wall to the night sky. “She came in through the bathroom window.”

(She Came in Through the Bathroom Window – Beatles 1969)

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