Phenomenal Nonsense

     He'd heard the cat or something cat-like the night before and, again, early in the morning. Or so he first thought. It was a scratching, whining sound that he associated with something inanimate--branch on branch or the whistle of a tongue of wind around the corner of the house. An inanimate sound, a wind whistle through one of those invisible cracks in a window or door. Definitely not human, not even animal . . . although animal had first occurred to him.

    So, he thought it through, carefully, to be sure that his observation and conclusion were based on clear sensory and rational knowledge. It is a logical deduction, he would explain to Muriel. "It was nothing," he would say calmly. "Wind on the shingles. Air escaping somewhere."

    "Escaping from what?" she would ask.

    Of course she would. Always the joker, the wit, the teaser, the sceptic.Well, he would feign disgust or, at least, disinterest as he had learned to do. Escaping air, fleeing air was a good explanation so he would stick with it. In fact, he was rather proud of that: air that fled! Could be a new scientific concept: air that sensed, that hovered somewhere between animate and inanimate object. A new species? No, not a species. A phenomenon. That's what it was, the phenomenal flow of the wind.

    He'd call it "The Flow Phenomenon." Or Phenomenal Flow. No! The Flow Effect! That was perfect, a new scientific term: The "Wind Flow Effect" that creates an uncanny, almost human cry whimper.  No. Cross that out.  Creates an expulsion of air that mimics a human wail, or an animal wail, a kind of mew effect.

    Yes! The Mew Effect soon to be a physical phenomenon on the lips of every earth scientist on the planet. The Mew Effect, he would explain, is the precise, cat-like sound of wind flowing across a roof.    Could he prove it? Demonstrate it?

    He nodded, considered other possibilities, and did his best to sound skeptical, skeptical and deeply scientific, as if he had examined every possible outcome and knew exactly what he was talking about. It was just what he needed for a certain scientific journal that would announce his discovery of the Wind-Mew Effect. He would modestly agree to write the article for them so the journal would be the first to publish the Wind-Mew Effect internationally.

    He was just getting out of bed when Muriel came in, not dressed, clearly upset about something. They both started talking at one.

    "The Wind-Mew Effect," he began . . . 

    "I let the damn cat in," she said.

    "Is a new wind phenomenon . .. "

    "Can't believe you didn't hear it carrying on last night, right under our window." She paused, smiled, looked at him. "Sorry to burst in like that. What were you saying?"

    Luckily he was quick, practiced at switching gears and, as he had learned long ago, a little white lie, artfully presented, is worth a lot.

    "I was saying how lucky I am to live with you, the Phenomenal You You You!"

    She'd known him long enough to know he was making up nonsense, hiding something, something minor no doubt, but the gift of their long marriage was that she smiled, blew him a kiss, said, "Breakfast is ready," and went back to feed the damn cat as he rolled out of bed.

 . . . And that is how The Wind-Mew Effect was lost to science.