In the seventies Sile and I rented a cottage in the middle of a farm just outside Kilkenny city. The farm had the wonderfully romantic title of Bishops Demesne, (with that spelling), definitely our most romantic address.
I used to do a little round of various catering jobs to make ends meet, some teaching in the tech, some dinner parties and some quiches and pates etc. for the food shops in the town.
On one Friday night I had a large order (for me) of 3 quiches for a local delicatessen. This was most of an evenings work to get ready.
Before I went to bed I had the quiches ready and cooling gently in the sitting room (the coolest room in the cottage)
I was woken by a noise downstairs in the middle of the night.
I jumped out of the bed and, naked and without my glasses (and therefore nearly blind) I headed down stairs to investigate.
There, to my horror, I found one of my quiches had been attacked by, what I immediately realised, could only be the farm cat.
Adding insult to injury was the realisation that it was mostly my fault. In my stupidity, and to cool down the quiches I had left the window in the sitting room open.
I then carefully closed the window and blindly and nakedly stumbled back to bed, fully aware that I was going to have to get up a few hours earlier to make an extra quiche.
I was no sooner back in the bed than I heard another noise from the living room.
This time I was downstairs, blind and naked in double quick time.
There I found that a second quiche had now been savaged.
Peering around the room for the culprit I at last made out a large cat, rigid in the corner obviously hoping that this mad blind person would miss seeing her again.
With a savage roar I bounded at the cat and grabbed the nearest weapon I could find.
I was going to kill it.
The weapon was the little axe we used to chop kindling for the fire.
With a large yowl the cat realised instantly my intentions and leapt past me out of the room and up the stairs.
With an equally loud yowl I ran after her.

Sile, who was always a good sleeper, had been sleeping peacefully through the earlier shenanigans.

She woke as a large yowling cat ran across the bed and up the curtains, there clinging on to the pelmet for dear life.
This was followed very quickly by her husband, naked and nearly blind and armed with an axe, shouting curses following the cat to the curtain and there making futile efforts to kill the animal who remained just out of his reach.

She eventually managed to save both me and the cat.
I can no longer remember how.
I do remember that I had to get up before dawn to make fresh quiches.
And I never left the window open again.