My Entry 6/11/14

         I walked into the house, locking the door behind me as I came in.  My mother looked at me, a look of disappointment set on her face.  Her eyes bore into my face.  I guess I was in trouble.

         “What is in your closet, young lady?” she demanded.  No.  She couldn’t have found out.

         “N-nothing,” I said weakly. She’s totally going to buy THAT, my conscience told me, the internal me rolling its eyes.  I white-knuckled my backpack straps.

         “Tell me right now.  It’s been making weird noises and I’m afraid of opening it to hang up your laundry.”

         Now I had a dilemma; do I tell her the truth or have wet laundry strewn on the floor?  I could hear the rustling in my closet, and the sliding doors lightly rattling.

         “Is it dangerous?” my mother demanded.

         “No,” I said firmly.  “There’s nothing in there.”

         “There’s something in there.  If not an animal, your clothes.”

         “There’s nothing in there!” I repeatedly angrily, but I started shaking in fear.  She stormed off, walking towards my room.

         I ran after her, and her hand inched toward the door.

         “Don’t look in the closet!” I cried.  She looked at me, and chuckled in that you’re-in-so-much-trouble kind of way.

         “Why shouldn’t I?” she smirked, her arms crossed and staring me down.

         “You’ll scare them.”

         “Scare what?” she now looked genuinely confused. 

         Slowly, I opened the closet.  I had been fostering a mother cat and her kittens in my closet.  We lived in a “no-pets” rental house, and I was prepared for a diatribe.  I closed my eyes, preparing for the worst.  But then I heard her say, “Aren’t you the cutest thing?”

         I opened my eyes and saw her holding one of the small kittens. 

         “Stop ogling and get some yarn!” she ordered.