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Mighty Hunter

by David Yehudah, Bellflower, CA, USA


Hi, All

I have received comments from several posters (you know who you are) concerning the lack of warning labels on my posts, usually having something to do with someone holding some liquid refreshment (I notice they don't state what kind) while reading them. From now on, when I begin something with "Hi, All," let that be a warning to set down anything you may have in your hand and run all small children out of the area. They might think you're having a fit and become concerned about their allowance.

As I may have mentioned before, this is all new to me. We didn't have cats around when I was a kid nor for many years thereafter, not until I became a grownup. It seems like just a few years ago I was still a kid. Patty says it's more like next year or the year after that, but what does she know.

Our new apartment is on the second floor, but there are still rosebushes growing outside the window. Today a little bird, species unknown, perched there and began to chirp. He had the instant attention of two cats, a dog, and two more-or-less adult humans ("Am too!" "Are not!" "Too!" "Not!")

Sasha was the first to react. Swifter than thought she leaped from the floor up onto the back of the love seat, onto the breakfast counter, across the kitchen cabinet base, and onto the top of the new kitchen wastebasket, which flipped open and dumped her inside.

Up until that moment she had been completely silent, in rapid-stalk or attack mode, but when that monster suddenly opened its ravenous maw and swallowed her whole (say that last part aloud), she came unglued. The rest of us watched in amazement as that trash can swayed and swung and screeched, then fell over on its side and disgorged a very perturbed, messy (leftover beans) blur, who stayed not nor slowed until she was safely hidden under the bedcovers. Mac instantly attacked the food spilled on the floor. Willoughby had no idea what it was had grabbed Sasha, but he beat her under the sheets. Who knows, it might be coming after him next.


Just a little followup.

After cleaning up what mess was left after Mac got through eating all of it he could scarf up before I took it away from him, I tipped the trashcan back up and put the lid back on to keep him out of anything else might still be in there.

He just had to try once more; there might still be some goodies left in the 'monster.' Throwing what sense he had left to the winds, he reared up on his hind legs and lunged at the trashcan, attempting to knock it over and finish scavenging. What he accomplished was to bring his paws down hard on the edge of the lid, causing said lid to spin wildly on its socket and slap Mac a resounding 'Whomp!' on his pointy little nose.

Willoughby was watching from his favorite roost on the back of the loveseat, grinning broadly, and at the sound of Mac getting whomped. he let out a yowl and fell onto the floor, holding his ribs and bladder and begging for mercy.

Mac thought he'd been attacked by something and vented his fury at the 'monster' from a safe distance across the room.

Patty yelled 'Woof!' from the dark bedroom, causing Mac to shift into full retreat mode and run under the bed.

There's never a dull moment around here.


Editor's note: :(


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