cheryl knits: There is Something Alive in My Wall.

For the last three, no, four, days, the kittens have taken to staring at this particular wall. At first, of course, we wrote it off to the kitten crazies. (I can't tell you how often I've walked into the room and Pig has been on his back feet catching nothing between his front paws.) Runt is prone to being overly curious about everything, so staring at the wall, really, just seemed the next in line of her unexplainable hobbies. Then, we started tossing around the idea that perhaps it wasn't CRAZY, but maybe they were having a religious experience? Do kittens have those?

Last night, as J napped on the couch and I, instead of deciding what to knit, poked around on Ravelry, I heard scratching. I look over the "the wall" and Runt has curiously twisted her head, her eyes gazed upwards. Next, we hear a thump. A couple more minutes of listening and I know we've got something...alive. In our walls.

Seeing that it's been there now for four days, I'm pretty certain its end will follow the path of every other animal that's been caught in a wall: look for path outside, scratch at the wall, look for food. What, no food? Death. Decomposition. Unusable room due to death stench for two months.

I sent J on a man mission today to find whatever animal has lodged itself within this wall. I have three cats. Three. I shouldn't have to deal with ANY animal problem. Three cats! What am I feeding them for?

Pig is staking out the wall, now cutting in front of whomever happens to be closest. Runtlet is doing belly dances and flips around the ottoman, pretending like she doesn't care (though she's the watchman). I have three cats and a husband. I shouldn't have burrowing animals in my wall. It's a bit... disturbing.

I just hope it's big and fat and had some reserves before it kicks the bucket.

And because I don't just want to talk about death smells, it seems that my carder and I are on speaking terms again: