My Dorm Cat, Creepin' Death

The following was originally posted at my sister's way cooler blog which has better stuff all the time.
I'm guessing that most readers of this blog aren't huge fans of Metallica (and if you are, Rock On!), but lead singer James Hetfield was integral part of my freshman year in college. I've never met him, and while I'm not what you'd call a huge fanatic, my kids have been rocked to sleep with "Enter Sandman". Freshman dorm life is interesting no matter how you slice it. Lots of dynamics and lots of interesting personalities as well.
One of the things you had to account for in the dorm is diverse musical tastes... especially when rooms weren't what you'd call "sound proof" and iPods were still a thing of the distant future. With favorites ranging from Classical Tuba (yep, really) to Vanilla Ice to Garth Brooks to the Free to Choose soundtrack (for the non initiates-and if you read this blog, you know who you are-that's a collection of songs that accompanied a series of still-shot videos for LDS High School-age religious education), it was uncanny that one of the sounds enjoyed by all was the thrashings of Metallica. Truth be told, not everyone wholly tolerated it. The Free to Choose guy had among his goals (posted on the outside of his door) to shake at the sight of evil. One of the other residents routinely walked back and forth past the open door just to see what would happen.

So when we found a small kitten (without being too graphic, we were certain it's mom wasn't going to be able to help it) on a late-night Run for the Border, there was only one fitting name: "Creepin' Death" after the Metallica single which references the Biblical story of the Egyptian plagues.

We had that cat for 3 weeks in our 3rd floor dorm. It was a fun game trying to keep it a secret while packing food, water, kitty litter, etc. into the building. The RA had his suspicions, I'm sure. The beginning of the end came when Creepin' Death wouldn't stop crying one night. That lead to a flurry of activity to keep the noise level high enough to keep RA distracted. Backfire??? Yes it did. He was on to us. What happened next was just like a movie where you see the characters try to complete their tasks before something catastrophic happens. Think Valkyrie.

We started by shoving stacks of pennies between the door jam and door of the RA's room. This effectively locked him in the room. The pressure created was sufficient that he couldn't turn the door knob and open the door. He tries calling his buddy, the 2nd floor RA, to open the door, but we created a distraction and RA2 isn't in his room (and of course no cell phones in 1990 college dorms). So RA climbs out his window (where there was a ledge about 3' deep, which of course we were forbidden to access) to the neighboring room and convinces the occupants to open their window to let him in.

OK. Game on!

As RA climbs back into the room and out into the hall, we mobilized a quick relocation of Creepin' Death... into RA's room. Using the same ledge he had used to get out of his room, we moved Creepin' Death, the water and food bowls, the kitty litter and toys, the bedding, from the west end to the east end (probably 50 yards). While he was grilling residents about what was going on, and did we have a pet, etc. his room was re-set into a quaint feline lair.

We snuck back into the dorm from the ledge and into the rooms of our co-conspirators. Everyone on the floor did their best "what's all the hoopla?" face and a very frustrated RA went back to his room with no evidence and no information. We milled around in the hallway so very nonchalantly, that I'm unsure what surprised him more: the cat in his room once he removed all the pennies from his door, or the gaggle of 18-19 year-olds standing behind him laughing uncontrollably.

He had nothing to go with from there. The cat was in his room. No one was talking. He scooped it all up and took it to a friend's place where pets were allowed. We got a lecture, but nothing more... and we never heard anything more about Creepin' Death.

However, to this day, whenever I hear any Metallica song, I think of that little cat. And I remember that James Hetfield cares!