Meowing at Nothing: A Ghost, or Just Vibes?

Hi, I’m Amanda! Read my introduction to learn more about me and Blue, my fluffy fire point Himalayan-Persian cat.

The sun has set, and I’ve just settled into my couch, blanket drawn, remote in hand. The house is quiet. I make sure the volume on my TV is adjusted before choosing a show because anything past a 7 is an absolute sin in my home after 8 pm. I am not so much concerned about disturbing others, but more about my own brain, especially when the day has been busy and full of unavoidable noise.

Once my big screen is set up, usually with some predictable yet addicting Hallmark movie, I shift my energy to my little screen. What to choose? Organize one of my many inboxes, check in on my calendar, or clean up the 97 random and incomplete lists I have started in Google Keep? I could begin one of the games I’ve downloaded but never once launched. Nah, it’s doom-scrolling the socials for the win. With my phone set to silent because if your video doesn't have subtitles, I wasn’t meant to watch it, my surroundings are still. The only sounds are the hum of my dishwasher and the ridiculous banter between two stubborn, love-torn humans doubling as my soft white noise for the night.

Meowing from the Abyss

That is, until Blue begins to meow from the farthest depths of my basement. Not a regular meow, either, but a low, long sound that almost ends in a growl as if she is summoning the devil or performing an exorcism. She takes eerily long pauses between each one, too. I’ve watched far too many episodes of Dateline, paranormal investigations, and questionable crime shows in the past, so my mind immediately reminds me of all the things I am scared of. Oddly enough, I don’t recall a feline actively participating in any of the plots I’ve watched, but this screech is undeniable and beyond spooky.

Communicating With the Other Side (Of the Litter Box)

I am sure anyone with a cat has experienced this before, or at least that’s what I tell myself, so the thought of a cat possession doesn’t envelop me. What is the purpose of such a call? Who could she possibly be conversing with? Is this how cats communicate with their ancestors? Surely my house is ghost-free, something I often have to convince myself of. There is no one and nothing in the basement but her, right?

Despite this being a rare occurrence, it gets me every time. Or this may be what makes it so freaky. If she did it often, I could write it off as Blue being a total weirdo again. It would lose its novelty. But no, this happens so infrequently and never in plain sight that I stare aimlessly out of my bedroom door once I finally gather enough courage to go to bed.

Just Vibes… Probably

Once the sun peeks in through my window and I find Blue peacefully snoozing at the foot of the bed, I can talk myself off the metaphorical supernatural ledge. It’s obvious she’s down there flexing her strong voice when she thinks no one is listening, letting her freak flag fly like no one’s watching, like we all do occasionally. It’s clear she’s just vibing out and living in the moment.

Or is it?