Socks Revisited

Check the archives for a post titled "Let's talk about Socks, baby." It's a story about my formerly not feline friendly grandparents and their cat, Socks. There have been many experiences with Socks since that blog was posted. . .let's see. . .a little more than two years ago, but today was just one of those special moments I feel deserves extra attention, plus my Uncle Nolan will get a laugh out of it.

I worked my brain out this week and by about three o'clock today I was ready for a break. I stay in town on Wednesdays for church in the evening, so I took an hour or so off and went to my grandparent's house. Now, if you read the aforementioned post, you know that some time ago family was redirected to the front door of the house when our traditional side entrance was overhauled to become Socks' fully heated and air-conditioned bachelor pad. We've mostly grown used to this, but every now and then, we are thrown a curve ball.

For starters, it was 600 degrees today and I drive a black car with black leather interior. I was hot. I park on the street at their house, so by the time I reached the front yard, debated whether or not to take the beloved, but terrifying ramp (which has been repaired and appears much safer, as long as it's not raining), and arrived at the front door, I was just shy of heat stroke. (I'm exaggerating of course, but my point is, I was ready to get inside.) I turn the knob of the door, which for most of my life has been unlocked during daylight hours, only to find it locked. I crane my neck around the corner of the house to see if the car is in place. It is. I wait. I ponder. Socks.

Soon I hear rustling about on the other side of the door and the blinds are pulled up. The stern and suspicious face of my grandfather stares out at me. I'm certain he has no idea who I am for a full 30 seconds, but finally yells through the window: "Come in through the side door!"

Confusion.

Mixed signals.

I retreat from the front door, walk down the ramp, trek through the yard, and endure the 600 degree heat a little longer. I ascend the steps to the side door, which used to be a screen door, but is now a solid, dead-bolted security door marking the entrance to Socks' crib. I attempt to enter, but again find it locked. I just want to visit my grandparents!!! Why won't they let me in!!! I went to the front door, because I'm not supposed to go to the side door ANY MORE!! Then I was told to go to the side door, but it is LOCKED!!! What am I supposed to do?!!!

Desperation. Heat taking its toll. Need water. . .

I hear the patter of my grandfather's feet and a moment later he opens the door for me and offers a hug. He then closes the outer door before I can open the interior door leading into the house, where Socks is lazing about. It's a very sophisticated, complex security system my grandparents have concocted to completely and totally ensure there is no chance of escape.

I finally made it into the inner-sanctum and enjoyed a nice visit with my grandparents, during which Socks went out to his apartment. After a while I got ready to leave. I said my goodbyes and approached the side door that I entered through. As my hand reaches for the knob, I am quickly redirected to the front door. . .???. . .!!! You mean the door I originally tried to use?

You know when you get in trouble as a child and your parents tell you to "shut your mouth" but then you get in trouble for not answering their next question? This was a similar experience. I no longer know what door to use. I have a college degree, am a nationally published writer, and am responsible for educating people's children, but I do not know what door to enter and exit through at a house I have been in and out of my entire life.

I suppose next time I'll try the back door, or perhaps a cracked window. There used to be a weak spot in the floor between the living room and dining room. Maybe, with the right tools and one of those hard hats with a light attached, I could burrow into the house from underneath.

P.S. I love and respect my grandparents and consider them wise and faithful people. I also know their love for me is unconditional, and I have drawn on that knowledge many times when I felt the rest of the world had turned against me. Despite my jokes, Socks is their companion during the day. My life does not allow me to be with my grandparents every day, but Socks provides entertainment and makes them feel needed, and for that I am grateful to him.