Little Girl and Booger
It was Saturday afternoon. The sun was shining and the spring air was blowing gently by in a sleepy breeze. My Wife and I were sitting quietly on our back porch admiring the many weeds we had carefully cultivated in our enormous gardens.
"I love how huge those clovers are," I announced to My Wife as we both looked at the giant mutant clovers that are proudly growing all around my healthy and heavily fertilized roses. "They're the size of small cars."
My boy cat, Booger Bear, was busily throwing himself onto My Wife's flowers, crushing them down into a perfect bed which he then rolled around on, finally settling satisfied in a perfect position on his back. He stretching out his paws in all directions while he yawned a lazy yawn. Ah, heaven!
"Dammit!" My Wife protested uselessly. "He keeps crushing those every year."
"Yes, he does," I agreed with a smile. "And look how happy he is. I'm sure he loves you very much for planting them just for him to sleep on."
"Oh shut up!" she spewed sweetly at me.
Suddenly our girl cat, creatively renamed "Little Girl" by My Wife, sprang from her concrete nap beneath my chair and ran across the yard with her entire body hunkered down as if dodging bullets on a battlefield. Her tail inflated to the size of the Hindenberg, which is pretty damned big if you've ever seen one of those things in person.
"What the fuck?!" I wondered aloud.
Little Girl went straight to the fence opposite us and sat growling at the butterfly bush.
"She hates that bush!" I proudly exclaimed, announcing that I had solved the riddle.
Through the boards of the fence a black shape could be seen. But it was nearly impossible to make out exactly what it was. It wasn't moving and neither of us could say for sure if it had been there all along or recently crept up unnoticed.
My Wife and I sat staring at the odd scene. Little Girl was growling at the fence and a mysterious black mass was on the other side. What the hell was she plannng to do, anyway? There was barely enough space between the boards for them to even see each other, let alone do anything about it.
And then, as if to answer my question, she did the unexpected. She flipped out her claws like an Irish New Jersey boy with a switchblade and leaped head-first into the fence, screaming all the way.
BAM! She slammed her fuzzy little face into the boards and screamed at the shape like Fay Ray being captured by King Kong. Then she turned and marched back to the porch in a satisfied strut, as if knocking herself nearly unconcious was exactly what she had intended all along.
The black shape barely moved. But then, very slowly, it began to walk away, hardly noticable in it's retreat as it was moving slower than a line at the DMV. But nevertheless, it was leaving.
Victory for our little headbanger! Hurray!
Little Girl, now very proud of herself, came and plopped back down again beneath my chair.
I smiled at her like a beaming father and cooed, "you are an idiot."
She began to purr.
Tom
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