Noise in the Cellar

A Noise in the Cellar

It wasn’t bad enough that I had a terrible cold that hung on for two weeks. Once it cleared up, laryngitis set in. It was like no air would pass over my vocal cords. I would use up all my breath and only get a squeak out of my throat. After a few tries, I used a scratch pad and pencil. It was funny how I would forget I had no voice and answer my phone. After my non-existent “hello”, the caller would say “Hello, hello Marjorie?” and then hang up. I would have to text whoever called and explain the whole lost my voice thing.

My husband, Ashton thought it was hilarious. As he left for work, he said, “Holler at me if you need anything.” What a clown, he thought that was so funny he was actually wiping a tear away as he said it. I blew him an insincere kiss as he left.

I cleaned up the breakfast dishes and headed into my office to start working.  Ironically, I am a customer service chat assistant. Luckily, all I do is type. So, I sat there typing away and ignoring the phone. The dog, Groucho, was lying by my chair and would lift his head every so often to wonder why I looked like I was talking to myself but no sound was coming out.

Suddenly, he sat up and perked up his ears. He headed for the cellar door. I hoped a raccoon hadn’t gotten in down there again. Groucho sat in front of the door and yipped. I looked at the clock. My shift was over so I clocked out before I went to see why he was yipping.

The dog was growling, so I thought it might be a cat. I opened the door and reached for the light. Just as I did, the broom fell across the doorway and scared a silent yelp out of me. It made me think of the poor acting in a silent movie and I laughed while I leaned the broom against the wall and walked down the steps.

Groucho charged past me and headed for the back corner. When he barked a bird flew out of the dimness and bumped against the ceiling. It had gotten in through the window. I guessed we had left it open when we were cleaning out last weekend. It was a blue jay. The poor thing was frantic and kept flying around bouncing off the window frame and ductwork.

The dog kept chasing it and finally, it landed on the top of a shelf, panting. “Groucho, get upstairs!” I yelled. But nothing came out. I had to catch him and shove him up the stairs with a swat on his rear end. He ran up the stairs and turned to bark back down at us. When he turned, he hit the broom and it fell, closing the door and blocking it.

Perfect, I thought. How was I going to get out of here? My phone was upstairs and Ashton wouldn’t be home for hours. First, I have to get this bird out of here before it kills itself. I looked around until I found a fishing net. “Come here jay,” I whispered. It looked down at me from the shelf and did not come. I gently nudged it with the net. It flew to the other side of the cellar. I swung the net, trying to catch it. The bird merely dodged around it.

I went to the window and pushed it all the way open, maybe ten inches. It was at the top of the wall and the box I stood on to reach it tipped over. I landed on my bottom on a cold cement floor. This sent Groucho into a barking frenzy. I stomped up the stairs and ran into the blocked door. “Be quiet!” I shouted noiselessly.

I heard the blue jay fly across the cellar again. I sat on the top step and pondered how to get it out of there. Down in the dark, something glinted. I peered at it and it glinted again. I slowly walked down the steps. I crossed the floor and a cat shot across the room. Groucho started barking.

Now I got it. The cat was menacing around where the blue jay had its nest. The blue jay, aggressive defender that it is, was chasing the cat away and chased it into the cellar. Now both of them were trapped. So, my task was to catch a frightened ball of fur with sharp teeth and claws and shove it through a window located above my head. Then, if I was lucky, the jay would follow it out, total optimist that I am.

I looked around until I found something more stable to stand on so I could reach the window. I found a trunk that would work. There was an old tablecloth sticking out of a box so I grabbed it to catch the cat. I tried calling it but with no voice, that didn’t work. I spread my arms wide holding the cloth as a barrier and crept toward the cat.  It darted out from behind a box and I threw the cloth at it. The tablecloth landed squarely on the animal and it thrashed wildly underneath. Groucho continued to bark. I gathered it up in a wad and climbed up to the window. I tried to unwrap an opening for the beast to escape and got a nasty scratch for my trouble. Finally, I worked the cat through the opening and it dashed away from the house. Groucho barked some more. “Shut up!” I yelled quietly.

I sat down on the floor and saw the blue jay watching the comedy. It hopped to the window and flew out. I laughed and thought, that cat is long gone brother.

I climbed to the top of the stairs and leaned against the door. “Shhh, Groucho,” I whispered. I wondered what time it was since I didn’t have a watch on. Might as well put all this junk away, I thought. I climbed up and closed the window. I gathered the tablecloth and put it back in the box. I would have swept but the broom was upstairs.

I puttered around and sorted through some junk while I waited for Ashton to get home. Finally, I heard his car and the front door slam. “Honey, I’m home. How are you feeling? What? I can’t hear you.” I was ready to smack him. I hurried up the stairs and pounded on the cellar door. I heard him start to laugh as he moved the broom and opened the door. He gave me a grin and asked, “How did you manage that?”

I mouthed, “I’ll tell you later.”