Snag, the family cat, enjoys a relative life of leisure, existing both indoors and out, depending on her mood and the weather.
Mostly, she’s been queen of the jungle, commanding respect of the local birds, bunnies and pocket gophers.
But lately she’s been challenged by a stray Tom who travels from the neighbors but is anything but neighborly.
We figure he’s a bully, given his embattled appearance.
Snag, despite the fact that she has no front claws, is not about to give ground to a pushy Tom. More than once she’s been forced to defend her throne on the porch (the horrendous battle cries are more dramatic than the tussle itself).
That was again the case on a recent quiet summer night when the archenemies met in Snag’s territory.
Matt and I were watching the evening news, the boys were downstairs unwinding for the night and the cat was outside finishing her nightly rounds.
We don’t actually know what the cat does once she leaves the porch and disappears into the shadows, but when the humans start shutting off the lights in the house, she typically returns to the patio door and waits to be let in.
We all heard the commotion at once, but I was the first to react.
Knowing the likely emergency, I leaped over the back of the couch (in order to save steps to the patio) and yanked open the sliding door, mustering my most intimidating mom voice.
“Hey! What’s going on out here?! Knock it off!”
It worked (which is good, because I had no weapon or shoes).
The perpetrator darted off the porch, past the garage and into the darkness.
Snag, meanwhile, skirted past me and through the open door to the safety of civilization.
She was clearly shaken (puffed tail, flattened ears and wild eyes) but did her best to convey composure.
Any cat lover knows this is important at all cost. “I’m fine. I’m not happy, but I’m fine … of course.”
To prove it, she slowed her pace once inside, took a few more stiff-legged steps, and then paused to preen her ruffled feathers.
Whew! She had survived another encounter with the enemy.
Other than her bruised pride and some stiff muscles, she was fine.
I, on the other hand, had become the subject of ridicule.
Instead of being recognized for bravery, I was mocked.
“Hey! What’s going on out here?!” the husband randomly blurts to the son, who laughs,
“Mom, do you really think the cats knew what you were saying?” he asked, pleased to contribute to the mockery. “Did you expect an answer?”
I’m sure they didn’t recognize the human words, but they got the drift and immediately ceased.
... If only my voice of authority were so effective with the human members of our family.
And if only I maintained my dignity under duress as well as the feline member of our family does.