Loud voices, right in my ear, shattered the pre-dawn darkness. I jumped out of my cozy bed, eyes wide open, but I couldn't see a thing. I bounded across the bed to make sure Miss Jerrianne was still alive. She was still breathing ... sleeping peacefully, in fact. I jumped on top of her, put my nose in her face, tickled her awake with my whiskers, almost made her sneeze. She didn't seem terribly alarmed about the strange voices.

Miss Jerrianne got up and flipped a switch. Lights came on. The darkness disappeared. She pushed a button by the clock and the scary voices went away ... just as I heard them say something about somebody in England protesting a "President Bush." The only bush I know about is the prickly Sitka Rose Bush in the front yard. If a "President Bush" is anything like that "Rose Bush," I can understand why people might protest.

Miss Jerrianne went straight to business this morning ... no lollygagging with the computer and no waiting to see whether I wanted to play with my toys in the bathtub before her shower. She whipped right through the usual morning routine ... shower, dress, open the blinds, get the newspaper off the front step, feed the cat, prepare breakfast ...

Stomp! Stomp! Stomp! I heard boots pounding up the front steps and the doorbell chimed. This time it wasn't just strangers' voices. It was bona fide strangers, right at our front door! I ran away as fast as I could and hid in the closet. I'm not a "scaredy cat" or a "'fraidy cat," you know, but I AM a "hidey cat." There's a big difference.

Miss Jerrianne let the strangers in and even gave them breakfast. She wanted me to meet her friend Sharon, and Sharon's mother, Sara, who is 93 and loves cats ... even has one of her own at her home in Idaho to keep mice away. I wasn't cooperating. She finally got out some "kitty treats" ... my favorite kind, made from salmon and shrimp ... and found my hiding place, behind a laundry basket on the closet floor.

I wasn't too happy about this, but I consented to stick around for a couple more kitty treats and some petting by two very nice lady strangers. I even participated in demonstrating the pouch for portable kitties, but by that time my nerves were really on edge. I slipped away as soon as I decently could. When it came time to bid the nice ladies goodbye, I had vanished ... not even a tell tale grin. Self preservation comes before manners, I say.

After the nice lady strangers left, Miss Jerrianne commenced a thorough search, but I was nowhere to be found. She looked every place she thought I could possibly be, and some others, too. She turned on a light in the bathroom and the light bulb popped with a flash, tripping a circuit breaker. Of course, she tried to blame that on me. I think her exact words were, "Yikes! I hope I haven't fried the cat!"

As usual, there was no incriminating evidence whatsoever to link the power outage to me. Miss Jerrianne looked around again, rechecking places she had searched several times before. She's not exactly Sherlock Holmes, but she decided I just had to be in some place she hadn't thought possible. That's when she spied me, sound asleep in an empty bin on the top tier of the closet shelf ... more than 8 feet off the floor.

Miss Jerrianne fetched a stepladder and brought me down from my hiding place. She says she's not sure she even wants to know how I got up there, in search of sanctuary under the ceiling. That's a good thing, too, because I can assure you, I'll never tell!