After the longest two week childcare vacation of my life, the kids went back to school on Monday. I cleaned the house top to bottom, the way I’d been dreaming about since August 3. The floors were spotless, thanks to my robot butler, and much of our massive toy collection “got disappeared,” or “sent to live on a farm,” or what have you.
This made our morning discovery all the more disturbing. My daughter was up first. She is almost four. She had her bowl in front of her, waiting for someone to fill it with cereal, when she calmly informed us that she found a shoe under the table. A shoe?! Hm. She seemed excited. Like she had won the game we must have set up for her last night. She had found the shoe.
The shoe was a women’s size 9 Roxy flip flop, and it does not belong to anyone in our house, nor has anyone been here recently that would have left a shoe. It was covered in bite marks.
The only plausible explanation we came up with was that someone had slipped in through the car door, and the cats, protecting their family and property, had eaten her. Among the three of them, they could eat all but a single flip flop.
I took a photo, intending to share it on Instagram and ask friends for alternate theories. But then I got worried that people would try to rationalize it. “You must have forgotten a recent visit from someone with size 9 feet,” they would say. Or, “obviously your house wasn’t as clean and tidy as you thought.” No, you idiots. It was clean. Either time travel or man-eating cats are involved. Don’t be daft.