Chuck and his Devil Spirit

          

    When we left off last week . . . we were in a heck of a predicament! Was the photo of Chuck evidence that he'd been taken over by some kind of devil spirit? 

       I stare at the photo carefully then look back at Chucky. 

     He looks the same as always in person, but in the photo, he looks different. 

     Dan makes the connection first. "You don't think something happened to Chucky when he went down with us into the pyramid, do you?"

     I don't want to believe it. "No . . . that's impossible. Besides, there was nothing down there. And nothing happened to us. Well, nothing much."

     I don't want to remember the climbing into the pyramid experience. What seemed like a good idea at the time--getting a once in a lifetime opportunity to climb into a pyramid--turned out to be a bit more arduous than we imagined.

     Pyramids abound in the Sahara Desert in Giza. Centuries ago, before they were "tampered with"--cleaned out, robbed, etc., they were not only the tombs of the ancient pharoahs but also the repository of their treasure. Nowadays, of course, they are empty shells. Still, they have an allure that's hard to pass up, and after our camel ride, we decide to grab an opportunity and climb into a pyramid.

     We form a plan. Dan will take Chuck, stuffed into his backpack, hoisted on his back. I'll go first. 

     To access this particular pyramid, you have to go in from the top and then climb down approximately 300 narrow steps in the relatively pitch blackness. 

      To get to the top, you climb on a rickety metal stair that leans against the pyramid. In some places the stair has no railing. As you navigate each step, higher and higher, it's a good idea not to look down. If you slip and fall, it would be the equivalent of falling off the roof of a very tall house, or, perhaps, a small hotel. The stairs are also slippery. 

      Surprisingly, I have little trouble navigating this part of the journey. There's a gentle desert breeze blowing. No problem. But Dan doesn't like heights. In fact, he might even have acrophobia, a fear of heights. For him, the higher we go, the more uncomfortable he feels. 

     "You can do it," I tell him.

      He's not really listening. Breathing hard. He stops, and I figure--this is it. He'll be stuck on this metal ladder thing forever. But, no, eventually he moves forward. Slowly.

        When we get to the top, we have to turn ourselves around and enter backwards. Literally, we squeeze ourselves through the opening to a small landing. Then we begin to climb down the steps. It's dark and stale smelling. There are small lights positioned every 10 steps or so, but all they do is create shadows. 

        This is the worst part for me because I'm claustrophobic. I close my eyes and begin to count--anything to take my mind off of where I am and what I'm doing. Don't think about what could go wrong, ie. do pyramids ever self implode? or what if one of us sprains an ankle? 

      Meanwhile, Dan is doing great inside the pyramid. He's literally flying down the steps, singing a happy song. No problem. 

      We reach the bottom. Chucky is bouncing around, sniffing everything. Even though there is basically nothing here. I mean nothing. It'a big empty room. Who's idea was this? I'm thinking. 

       Then, of course, as we're marveling at the sheer notion that we are actually inside a pyramid, Chuck disappears. 

        Luckily, cell phones have flashlights, and we're able to track him down within minutes. He's wandered off to an adjacent room, climbed onto a shelf, and somehow managed to squeeze himself into an area about half his size.  His sticking out tail gives him away. When he hears his name, he turns himself around.

        BUT when we call for him, he won't come out.

        When we reach for him, he backs up so we can't reach him.

      I open my backpack. "Maybe Chucky wants a snack."

         Chucky's ears tilt forward.  

         I hold out the tidbit, and the standoff is over.

         "Too much stimulation," I say. "We need to go home."    

        Getting out of the pyramid is just as arduous. Climbing up 300 narrow steps in semi-complete darkness while you feel the walls closing in is no picnic. Dan sails up the steps, humming while Chucky say nothing. 

         Outside, with the wind at my back, I climb down the rickety metal staircase to the sand below. Dan and Chuck CRAWL down. 

          Chucky is very quiet on the way back to the hotel as our van maneuvers in between camels, vans and pedestrians. 

        We go swimming in our beautiful built in pool while Chucky watches us from the window of our hotel room. 

         I take a selfie.

     That's when I snap Chucky's photo. The photo where Chucky doesn't quite look like himself.  Where he looks like he's been taken over by some ancient Egyptian devil spirit.

          And that's when I begin to put two and two together. In those few moments when he was out of our sight. In that adjacent cubby hole type room. Did something happen? 

         "What should we do?" 

          Dan is always the voice of reason. "We'll go to dinner, and google how to deal with ancient Egyptian spirits when we get back."

         But there is no need. When we return, the rascal cat is sleeping peacefully. Snoozing. Purring up a storm. We can tell the crisis is averted. 

        Chucky may be a rascal, but he's no devil!