Cats in Sicily, guys. Let’s talk.

Going into this, you should know two things:

1. I don’t care for cats.

2. There are cats everywhere here in Sicily.

I’m not entirely sure whether the cats in Sicily are mostly pets roaming (some definitely are) or feral, but none of them seem to be starving. Probably because about every third time we put out our food trash, cats end up tearing into it for snacks. See point 1 above.

They also show up at our kitchen windows to loudly beg for food. 

Anyway, we’ve gotten used to sharing our yard with our feline friends neighbors, but lately these guys have stepped up their game. So, without further ado … two scenes from the last week.

SCENE ONE: midafternoon, our living room, kids are watching TV while I read the entire internet. Owen, apparently concerned about my lack of attention to the show, is narrating the entire thing incessantly.

Owen: “babble, babble, babble … and a cat is coming down the stairs now.”

Me: “That’s nice, buddy.”

Owen: “Are you going to do something?”

Me: “I have literally no idea what you’d like me to do about a cat on television.”

Owen: ” … ”

Me: “…”

Owen: “THIS IS REAL LIFE, MOMMY.”

A sure enough, there was a freaking cat hanging out on our stairs. In our fortress. That we know from experience is extremely hard to break into. 

I’ve just noticed that this cat appears to be the same one from the picture above. There are in fact several cats that hang out in our yard. Cats in Sicily.

A pissed off cat, actually. Which is a bit rich, considering it wasn’t like we were holding him hostage. This jerk sneaked into OUR house, after all. Again, see point one above.

Scene Two: 1 a.m., our living room, I am up late working and there is an epic wind storm.

I’ve already talked about our beautiful horror movie house, but I don’t think I’ve mentioned that it makes the creepiest noises CONSTANTLY. It frequently sounds like there are people walking around in it. I think it is all the marble? At any rate, we are fairly certain it can’t be haunted because it was built in 2008. (Also Chris would almost certainly like me to point out that ghosts aren’t a thing. My addition: probably.)

All this is to say that it isn’t weird for us to hear strange noises in our house. We also hear cats yowling and dogs barking all the time. On the night in question, however, I hear none of this. At 1 a.m. in the middle of a wind storm, what I instead hear is crying — crying I assume is my kids (for the millionth time). Except that my kids aren’t crying when I check so … ok? Back to work.

Except then I distinctly hear a voice sobbing “Mama” and “Mommy” specifically. Over and over again. So I run and check the kids again, and once again they are still asleep. At this point all kinds of theories come to mind, including that my neighbor’s kid has somehow gotten locked out and sounds like a small child and has forgotten about the existence of door buzzers. And then I realize that with the size of our yard, I can’t possibly be hearing him or anyone else from outside the ( gates. At this point I became absolutely convinced that there was somehow a small child who’d — somehow?? — gotten into our yard and was sobbing and possibly freezing in my yard. So, like any good horror movie character, I immediately run outside our house (without waking my husband to tell him) to go hunt for Mystery Kid.

As soon as I walk outside, I hear the crying even louder coming from the side of the house so I race over there to scoop up whatever kid is in my yard at 1 a.m. Because it STILL SOUNDS LIKE “MOMMY.”

Given the theme of this post, you already know that it wasn’t a kid. It was cats. Fucking cats.

I have no idea what these things were doing — courtship? preparing to fight? Despite the weather they weren’t meowing to get in, they were literally sitting there yowling back and forth at each other like they were having an animated discussion about something. Maybe politics. They were so absorbed that they didn’t even hear me approach, until I yelled “Are you kidding me? What the fuck are you guys doing??” (Yes, that is exactly what I yelled, as if they were going to answer me. I was relieved and startled and pissed).

The cats ran off, but I was up for another couple hours waiting for the adrenaline to finally wear off. So yeah, point one again.

In conclusion, there’s something funny about these damned cats in Sicily.