I couldn’t (and wouldn’t!) make this up

I’m in the laundry olympics today, and plan to take home the gold for most loads washed/dried/folded.

It’s 10 am and I’ve already filled my dining room table, which, you see, is not an insignificant amount.

Little J frequently “helps” by moving wet laundry from the washer (I have a front-load, so everything’s in his reach) into the dryer, putting in the dryer sheet, emptying the lint screen, etc.

George Muttley also enjoys hanging out when we’re laundering, because he gets to explore the insides of the machines as they are emptied.

This morning, though, I’m on a strict schedule. I have to be done by noon so we can drive south to celebrate the Day the Native Americans Made a Big Mistake and Welcomed the Puritans to North America, Little Did They Know the Similarities Between the Words Pilgrim and Pillage Weren’t Only Phonetic.

So, I switch loads, hurriedly. J wanders in to clean the lint screen as I’m shoving wet clothes into the dryer. My dryer is old and the opening isn’t nice and wide like it could be, so there’s an amount of forcing going on. J throws in the the dryer sheet, I slam the door, and I move to the dining room to fold the next load. J climbs up on the catfood bin next to the dryer and hits the start button for me, like he always does.

As I’m sorting what seems to be several trillion pairs of socks, a sound makes me hesitate.

Thump

Thump.

It sounds like there’s a shoe in the dryer. But there’s no shoe in the dryer, for sure. Little J’s coat is in there, which is probably heavier than the dryer’s normal fare, but it should not be

Thump

Thump

Thumping.

I fold a few more socks, wracking my brain to figure out what might be in there. I decide there must have been a something in there of Big J’s–he’s notorious for filling socks with rocks and leaving all manner of unwashables in his pockets. I decide I should probably retrieve what ever it is, lest it dent my already-limping-along-dryer.

I walk in and open the dryer door and jump back with a small yelp. There’s an ANIMAL in my dryer and it looks like a SKUNK.

Oh, no, it’s only George.

I grabbed him out and he immediately threw himself from my hands to escape the torturous hell I’ve subjected him to. He ambled crookedly into the dining room and collapsed under the safety of a chair, looking pointedly at me. I reached down to tell him I was sorry, that I really did not know he was in there, and he accepted by apology with a rumble of a purr.

All told, he was probably in there for less than 60 seconds. I’m sure for him it was an eternity.

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3 thoughts on “I couldn’t (and wouldn’t!) make this up

  1. As I was reading this post, and got to the point where George was helping, I thought to myself, “I gotta tell her about the time I accidentally turned the dryer on with the cat inside.”

    I am soooooo glad to be in such good company! (PS, Orion lived for many happy years after that incident, with no sign of damage.)

  2. Thank God you were there and paying attention!

    I babysat for a lady once and arrived at her home just after she found her (dead) cat in the dryer. to say the least, she was distraught.

    I was always afraid of mine being under the hood of the car when I started it, but I also check the dryer anytime there are cats in the house.

    well done on getting the laundry done…

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