Phenomenal Nonsense

     He'd heard something cat-like last night, and again early this morning. It was a scratching, whining sound he associated with something inanimate, a branch on branch or the whistle of a tongue of wind around the corner of the house, an inanimate sound, a 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. As he thought it through, he realized that his conclusion was based on clear sensory evidence and a rational deduction, he would explain to Muriel--wherever she was--already out of bed and doing . . . something. 

      She'd be worried. 

     "It's nothing," he would calmly explain. "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 truism: The Wind Flow Effect creates an uncanny, almost human cry or whimper. No, cross that out. Creates an expulsion of air that mimics a human wail, or even, an animal wail, a kind of mew effect. Yes! That's it! The Mew Effect would soon be the description of a physical phenomenon on the lips of every earth scientist on the planet.

    The Mew Effect, or perhaps more scientifically, the Wind Flow Effect happens everywhere! Could he prove it? Demonstrate it?

    He tried shaking his head, and did his best to sound skeptical to himself, skeptical and deeply scientific, as if he knew exactly what he was talking about. Well, the possibilities excited him. He took a breath, calmed down, and mentally prepared for a dignified presentation of the discovery of the Wind-Mew Effect.

    It was just what he needed for a certain scientific journal that would want to publish the first  scientific explanation of the Wind-Mew Effect which he, of course, would modestly agree to write for them. 

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

    "The Mew Effect," he began . . . 

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

    ". . . is a new wind phenomenon . . ."

    "Can't believe you didn't hear the cat carrying on last night, right under our window." 

    She paused, then smiled, looked at him. "Sorry to burst in like that. What were you saying? A new phenomenon?"

    Luckily he was 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 cat.