I stayed so close to Mom yesterday, I'll bet it looked like she wore unmatched slippers--a little white one and a big black one shaped like a cat.
See, Saturday I think I lost half my nine lives--maybe eight of them. Who has time to count when you're barely holding onto whichever one you got?
The day started good with Dad and me sitting on the porch while he had coffee. When my buddy Chris joined him, I took a long drink so I could overspray where a tomcat left his logo around my place. By the time I reached the backyard, I was lost in deep thinking about how I was gonna kill the nervy tom. Two posts and the gate itself, and I'm out of pee.
Holy @#*@!! I took one leap to the fence and another over it. A dog looking a whole lot like laughing hyenas you see on TV was after me. She was bone lean, hungry, and for sure not laughing.
I felt the sting, and figured my tail got shortened, but I didn't have time to check it. By the time I jumped on top of a dumpster, she'd left my yard and caught up. Using furniture garbage piled beside the dumpster for a spring, she was on me again--almost. I made it to a tall wooden fence, took a few shaky steps along the top rail, and fell into rose bushes that stabbed me all over. At least I'd got away. Uh oh... Hello pit bull.
Whew! I was saved by the yellow-eyed bitch that wanted me for breakfast. She growled. The pit bull turned and threw its weight against the gate, snarling at the bitch. While the dogs growled at each other, I used the bushes for a shield and limped behind them to a space between a shed and the fence. Safe, but barely. I had to escape from that yard.
I crept along the side of the shed, then eyed the distance to the fence that divided the lot between the dog's half and street side. With luck I could make it--dash to the doghouse, ("Killer" printed over its door) from its roof, to a planter on the fence, and over it. I just hoped if I fell again, it would be to the other side.
A car's brakes screeched as I ran across the street, through another yard to an alley. I spied a small water dish on a patio. No dog in sight, but the chain link fence, just like ours, looked fifty feet high. Somehow I climbed over it.
At the dish I drank and drank. A high-pitched bark interrupted my looking over the yard for a place to rest. I hissed at a terrier poised for a game of chase.
"Get outta here Cat," A man who appeared at the gate to the front yard, opened it. "Sit, Snuggles."
"Snuggles?" Any other time I'd have laughed. But this time, there was no time. Tired, and not paying attention, I walked into the path of a man with two chows on leads. One lunged at me, but its owner yanked it back. Across the street a homeowner had opened a garage door just enough to let in cool morning air--and one tired cat.
--to be continued
(c) 2012, Bernice W. Simpson