I woke up to the crashing sounds of items falling off my nightstand. There was a blur of white fuzz and then Small standing in the bedroom doorway.
"It wasn't me. It's not our cats."
That took me a moment, it was after all 3 am. I asked him what he meant. "Those aren't our cats." I got up out of bed and followed him into the living room. There was a very large orange and white Tom cat sitting on top of the chicken brooder cage. I stomped my foot and yelled get. The cat took off, then stopped. I ran the other direction, stomped and yelled get. It ran the other direction. A third time, and it squeezed back out the window.
I never found the black cat that Small says was also in the house. Could still be in here, as we shut the windows because of the incoming rain.