I woke up to the sound of glass shattering.
My boyfriend was already standing at the open window. It's hot now, and we sleep with the windows wide. The pussy cat can jump in and out that way too, which saves me being his door attendant through the night.
Then the alarms went off. The corner store we live above was being broken into. I lay very still, listening.
My boyfriend had woken up to them arguing outside. There were three of them, one sensible, who thought it was a shit idea.
"What are you, are fucking pussy?" The other (non-pussy?) said. That was enough, of course. Boys.
My boyfriend closed the windows against the alarm, after watching them run off down the street.
The police arrived 5 minutes later, and stood around outside. The alarm switched off.
There was a thump at the window and a distinctly feline shriek as the cat rebounded off the glass. His attempt at jumping through not as successful as usual. Shit. I jumped out of bed, flung open the window and peered out, blind without my contacts.
"Puss? Puss puss?"
"Do you know that cat?" The police megaphoned up.
"Well okay then." He sounded almost disappointed.
The robbers got away with $200 worth of cigars and an adrenalin rush. The pigs haven't caught them yet. And probably won't. If they'd circled the block after getting my boyfriend's description of them, maybe. But the cop who (very slowly) took the details barely looked old enough to drive. He wasn't the sharpest knife in the draw, that one.
My theory is drunken boys on the way home, no ciggies and the shop was shut.
This area is flash, things like that are rare. But the recession is winding people up, and with Christmas coming, it's probably just the beginning.