Shackie the cat leads to a curious discovery.

—by Olivia Hitt

It was a wonderfully warm, deliciously sunny afternoon. My husband and I were enjoying our hammock outside together while our cat, a red-point Siamese named Shackleton, prowled around. I heard a noise and sat up in the hammock to check on Shackleton (who I have affectionately nicknamed Shackie). To my utter astonishment, I saw Shackie zip into our house as fast as I had ever seen him run in all the time I’ve known him. (We had left the back door cracked open so Shackie could get to his food and water dish.) Mind you, this is no small feat for him, because he’s at least 20 pounds and definitely does not like to run; loping is his fastest gait at best. Astounded, I raced after him in disbelief that I had just seen my chubby cat run that fast for no apparent reason.

I found him inside beside my pedal harp, eagerly meowing. To my horror, I heard a scratching and chirping sound coming from somewhere inside my harp. “There’s a bird in my harp!” I screamed to myself. My husband raced in to see what all the commotion was about. “Matthew, I think Shackie’s chased a bird into my harp!” I wailed to my husband.

I ferociously began slapping the bass wires of my harp in a desperate attempt to scare the creature out. No luck. It is still chirping and scratching. I am mad now—mad that any dirty, outside animal would dare seek refuge in my harp. I started shaking my harp from side-to-side and out popped, not a bird, but a chipmunk! He flew onto the floor and raced back into our den, seeking refuge under our couch near the back door.

“Get him, Shackie! Get him!” I excitedly yelled to my cat as we all raced after him. My husband and I both grabbed a broom. I stood guard by the den entryway to ensure that the chipmunk could not run back to my harp and hide in it again. Matthew tried to scare the chipmunk nearer to the back door. Shackie was adamant about helping and ended up getting in the way, so I grabbed him and locked him in the bathroom. Now the chase became akin to a bad hockey game, with both of us running around trying to get the chipmunk closer to the back door.

Finally, we got him lined up in position to be swept back outside. With one deft stroke, I successfully sent the chipmunk back outside with a hilarious top spin to boot. Needless to say, we have stopped leaving the door cracked open.