Things are off to quite a start here at “work from home, school from home” central. My office has sent us all home to work remotely, which meant this weekend I needed to adjust my home office from a sit-down-for-an-hour-or-two kind of workspace to a work-all-day kind of workspace.

As I was cleaning out things from my home office (which tends to be a bit of a catch all room), I managed to empty out a paper bag of odds and ends. It was one of those nice bags with two little paper handles they give you in those boutique stores that carry all kinds of artistic twine and hand dyed scarves. I thought I’d save the bag, so I set it down on the floor near the dining area so once I was done, I could fold it up and put it away.

I swear I turned my back for just a second when out of nowhere Mumford, our recently acquired 7-month-old cat, leaped onto the bag like a sugar crazed toddler on an unsuspecting pile of leaves. He dove inside the bag and in a striped blur, managed to crumple the bag, then somehow got his head through one of the handles.

It was like someone gave him a shot of adrenaline straight to his kitty heart. He flew into the air, the bag now around his head and shoulder like a woman trapped in her sports bra (not saying I have any experience with this, or anything…). He tried to run between the legs of the dining room chair, but the bag was too big and floppy. The bag got caught under the chair and his panic grew exponentially greater.

“Stop! Mumford!” I shouted, rushing over to him. But he was in full RUN FROM THE BAG mode. Scrambling, he managed to get out from under the dining room chair, ripping part of the bag off. Unfortunately, his head and one leg were still stuck in the handle, and his tail was frizzed out like a toilet bowl brush. His eyes were wild with fear as he pinged off the couch, banged off the piano, and dashed down the hall, the remnants of the paper bag chasing right after him in crinkly determination.

By this time, I was bent over the couch trying to stop laughing long enough to go after him and perform a bag-otomy. I heard crashes in my newly cleaned out office, then more crashes as he ran into Mireya’s bedroom. I managed to stagger down the hall, wiping tears from my eyes from laughing so hard. By the time I made it to the doorway, Mumford was on the floor, the bag handle still around his neck and one leg, his eye pleading to “make it quick.” I released him from his paper demon, and he ran off to hide behind the love seat.

Yes, I literally let the cat out of the bag.

I’m not planning to be releasing another paper bag into the living room again. However, if we remain cooped up long enough, I might be sorely tempted.

Winter Prosapio is a writer, a wife, and a working mom of two girls, two cats, and one ridiculously enthusiastic terrier mix.

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