Back when I lived in Colorado, there was a family friend I usually pet-sat for. He and his wife were older (around 65) and they traveled frequently. As a result, there were several times a month where someone had to take care of the cat, Lady.
It was sometime in December of 2015 and I, a broke college student, was looking for any way to make money. On the way home for Christmas, I got a text from my dad. I pulled over into a gas station and made a beeline for the bathroom. While waiting for whoever was still in there, I replied.
Dad: Hey, Chris. The Aldens are asking if you can watch over Lady since you’re back.
I groaned before sending back a reply.
You: How long will they be gone?
Dad: They said about a week.
You: Really?? If I do it then I’ll be gone for like half of the break
After a few moments of silence, he replied.
Dad: I already told them yes. They said they would pay you $500 for the week.
Whoever was in the bathroom finally left, but I stayed in the same spot staring at my phone in shock.
You: 500??? Are you messing with me right now?
Dad: Just get home. They’ll talk about it once you get here.
You: K.
I hurriedly went to the bathroom before buying a few on-the-road necessities. Light snow started falling as I gassed up my car. My ride home continued.
Lady was the definition of high maintenance. Food, grooming, interaction; everything was meticulous. Lady was also a creature of habit. Food was given twice a day, at exactly seven in the morning and seven at night, and she made sure of this. If anything was out of place, she would get revenge by peeing on anything and everything she could. But even with all of this, Lady was the sweetest cat I had ever met.
I arrived home at around 5:00 in the evening. I carried my stuff in and chatted with my parents. After a few hours and a small dinner, I made my way down the street to the Alden’s house. They were supposed to leave sometime tomorrow morning, but as I made my way up to their front porch, I could tell no one was home. The driveway was completely empty and every light inside the house was off. Attached to the door was a note written in a quick scribble:
Dear Christopher,
Sorry for the sudden leave! We mixed up the flight times and realized only a few hours ago. The key is where you know it is ;).
Love, **** and ******* Alden
I laughed before looking for the key.
Before I went off to college, spending a few days taking care of Lady was a common occurrence. I’d stay in their house during the day and leave after giving Lady dinner. The key was always in the same spot each time I arrived: under the garden gnome.
Plucking the little guy out of the dirt, I snatched the key from under it.
It took a while to open the front door. The thing had been there since the house had been built, which was sometime in the 50s. It squeaked and fought against me but eventually gave up and I stepped into the house.
I immediately felt like I was being watched. The corners, which were bathed in darkness, felt inhabited by something negative. I shivered and flicked on the lights. Sitting on the kitchen table were several Tupperware containers and yet another note.
Dear Christopher,
So glad you could take care of our poor Lady. The doctors said her cancer was getting worse and gave her about two months to live, so we decided to have one more trip before spending the rest of her life making it as comfortable and relaxing as it can be.
You will be doing what you normally do with Lady from today until sometime Friday when we arrive back. During this time, as well, you will be staying the night to provide extra care for our little Lady. We ask that you keep her locked up in the guest bedroom with you during the night to prevent her from eating something she shouldn’t or otherwise hurting herself. Her stuff (litter box, food, and water) is all in the guest bedroom already. We ask that you stay during the day to keep a watchful eye on her for us.
We hope Lady treats you well, and your payment will be given at the end of the week.
P.S… The hotel’s phones are out until Thursday, so if you need to reach us, do it then.
With Love,
The Aldens
I checked the time on the microwave. 6:59 pm. Then 7:00
Right on cue, I could hear Lady upstairs.
“Coming!” I called to her and grabbed a container off the table. Mrs. Alden made a special concoction of wet and dry cat food just for Lady. “Fit for a queen,” she had said. I climbed the stairs and made my way to the guest room. I could hear her pawing from behind the door.
Lady was, to put it simply, a beautiful cat. Her fur was this beautiful white that gleamed under the light, although old age had made it thinner and dimmer.
I scooped out the food and watched as she chomped merrily. Even with her ferocious appetite, the cancer was obviously taking a toll on her eating. I remembered the old Lady from two years ago, and how she finished her entire bowl in a span of five minutes. This one could barely eat half of it before stumbling away.
I stayed up until about one in the morning working on some stuff for class. I browsed YouTube and Facebook before settling down to sleep. I drifted off soon after.
Sometime after that, I woke up to the sound of slurping and smacking. Although it was dark in the room, I guessed it was Lady finishing her dinner.
“Good girl, Lady,” I mumbled before drifting off again.
The next two days were the same. I’d wake up to Lady’s persistent screeches before feeding her. I’d spend the day caring for her many needs. I’d watch some TV or try to read only to eventually putter around the house in absolute boredom. Once night hit, I’d feed Lady and settle down. Again she would eat a small amount only to finish it in the dead of night.
It was Thursday when I was poking around in the guest bedroom. I peeked in the closet to find that it was pretty standard. Old clothes were hung up in the back, and some wrapping paper was stuffed in boxes. There was also an attic door. One of those that you could push on and lift up so that you could crawl in. It was cracked open just slightly. Although I couldn’t see anything, something in my head told me not to look. Thoroughly creeped out, I pushed the door back into place.
“Probably just the air pressure,” I muttered, hoping it would help soothe my anxiety. It did not.
The home phone suddenly rang downstairs, almost killing me with fright.
It was after the second ring or so when I made it down and answered the phone.
“Hello?” I asked, out of breath.
“Hello, Chris!” Mrs. Alden chuckled.
“Hi! How is it up there?”
“Oh, it’s perfect! How’s Lady?”
“She’s doing well. A little slower now that she’s older, but still eating well.”
“Is she eating all of her food?”
“Yeah! She’ll eat a little at seven and wait to finish until the middle of the night.”
Mrs. Adler didn’t answer me for a few seconds.
“Mrs. Adler, is something wrong?”
“No, it’s fine,” she stumbled, “it’s just, well, she’s never done that before.”
“Oh, then that is weird,” I mumbled.
“Yes, it seems it is. If you don’t mind, we have an indoor security camera stuffed away in some box somewhere. Could you find it and use it to capture some video of Lady eating that late? I want to give it to the vet if it’s a sign her symptoms have worsened.”
“Alright, I’ll get that set up for you.”
The camera had finished setting up around midnight. It was perched in the corner of the room. Whenever it would sense motion, a 25-second clip would be sent to my phone for me to watch.
As I settled into bed, I turned the camera on, and it transitioned into night vision mode.
“Good night, Lady.” I sighed.
The next morning was a bright one. After giving Lady some more of her food, I opened the camera app to see what it caught. There were ten videos saved.
The first few seemed innocent enough. They showed Lady walking around or jumping up onto the bed.
It was the last four that mattered.
The first showed the closet door opening and a figure crawling to the cat bowl.
The second showed the figure standing up and staring at me while I slept. He must have stayed in that position for three hours.
The third showed the figure turn up to the camera. His disheveled face was covered in dried cat food. He winked.
The fourth and final video showed the man crawling back into the closet before closing the door.
I almost broke down right there. Swallowing my fear, I carefully picked Lady up, tried to keep my composure, and walked downstairs toward the front door. About halfway down the stairs, I heard the sound of a door opening and closing upstairs.
He was now in the bedroom.
Forgetting everything except escape, I picked up the pace and ran down the remaining stairs. I made it to the front door only to struggle with the lock.
He opened the bedroom door.
As the stairs creaked behind me, I finally made it out of the house and started calling for help. I trudged through the fresh snow barefooted with Lady in my arms. A neighbor who happened to be out getting her mail saw me.
I yelled at her to call 911, and she ran back inside.
Struggling with my own phone, I dialed 911 as well. While talking to the dispatcher I looked back at the house, and a window caught my eye. The man was in the window.
He smiled before turning to flee.
After officers arrived, they searched the entire perimeter. They found footprints in the snow leading from the back door out to the woods. They also found older prints leading into the backdoor.
Once in the attic, the officers found essentially nothing. Well, it was until recently that I thought they found nothing.
I brought the situation up with my dad, and he told me something that the officers didn’t tell me because they thought it would freak me out. He said while they were searching, they came across something carved into one of the wooden support beams in the attic. He said the officers believe the guy wrote it with his fingernails, leaving a trail of blood behind every letter. When I asked him what the guy wrote, my dad only said one thing.
“Till we meet again, Chris ;).”