The Cat

Saturday morning,

I woke up and started getting ready for the day.  When I let the dogs out (step 1) I immediately noticed someone was barking but since I didn't recognize the bark I figured it wasn't mine. This is pretty normal, our new house is surrounded by dogs and someone is always barking at someone. I dismissed it because I didn't recognize the bark and figured there was nothing I could do.  After about twenty minutes of this persistent nagging bark I caved and went outside to see what was going on.

I'm quickly greeted by smiling Lucy and spot Thaleia (our Siberian Husky) on the side of the house fixated on the fence. Understand this is highly unusual, Thaleia is a Husky so she speaks all the time but she doesn't bark. Ever.  A Husky's speaking could probably be best described as a rolling series of vowels and the letter "R".  It doesn't have any abrupt points and rolls over you sleepily like a blanket made of gravel.  This was something I've never heard her do before.  The harsh and abrupt barks you might associate with an overly protective dog barking at the mailman.  Clean and crisp, and to the point.

I started working my way into the blackberries that had overrun this corner of the yard. About halfway back I notice these little amber eyes staring at me from deep inside a black ball of fur. A cat had gotten itself cornered and trapped between the house, blackberries and the dog.  I turned around and took the dogs inside. My plan was to give her some dog-free-time and let her figure it out.  Cats may not be smart, but she got into my yard, she had better be able to get out.

About twenty minutes later we had finished getting ready for a group meal and I needed to put the dogs out in the yard again. Concerned about the sanity of the cat and the physical well-being of my idiot dog I went to verify she had vacated our yard before releasing them. Naturally this drove them nuts. "You're going outside without me? But the cat is out there! I wanna go too!"

She hadn't left. She was still there, buried in blackberries, growling.

With an exasperated sigh I retrieved my work gloves and clippers intent on setting the cat free from her thorny prison and I got to work.

As I got closer she would growl louder and tense up, I would speak soothingly and take my time clipping overhead brambles. Eventually she a would calm and I'd creep closer and we'd begin the our slow, thorny waltz of mistrust anew.

After twenty minutes of this I'm looking down at a very angry kitty amidst as pile of thorns and ivy. Concerned she may be caught on the branches she's laying on I clip them close to her and step back. She looked up at me with those big amber eyes as if to say "don't you dare touch me filthy clod!"

I reach down with my gloved hands and gently pet her head to which she immediately melts. I calmly grab her and place my other hand under her feet and briskly begin working my way to the gate on the other side of the yard. As I get closer I realize the gate is locked from the outside. I stop on the patio to consider my options. Not knowing anything about the age and health of this cat I'm reluctant to just to toss her over the fence. My wife doesn't know which key opens the gate and I don't want to risk the cats patience waiting long enough for her to try each one in turn because I guarantee she will try all the wrong ones first.  Which leaves racing through the house. This seemed like a good idea at the time: My wife would go inside and rally the dogs and I would make the calm dash ten yards to the door.

It's worth taking a moment to note that at this point the cat and I have an understanding, a delicate truce that stipulates if I free the cat from my yard with no more canine interactions no harm will come to me and mine. The dogs of course were not aware of this agreement nor did they care for it and they desperately wanted to be involved in whatever I was doing.

The door opened and they raced out onto they patio. Straight at me.  The cat glared at me and began growling once more.  I begun to spin around in circles softly kicking my feet out at the dogs to keep them back and shushing their excitement.

Then Thaleia got in front of me and reared up on her back feet.  In a low stern voice I scolded her and told her to get back.  That was over the line. My calm admonishment of the dog was enough to breach the terms of our tentative truce. The cat hissed and spit then wrenched around at an angle I'd forgotten cats could achieve. With one last yowl the cat reached out and slapped me in the chin. I tightened my grip and stretched my arms out as far in front of me as I could.  I ducked down committed to completing this task and ran through the house, everything a blur of growls and hisses.  I counted my blessings that my work gloves were still on as the cat battered ferociously at her bindings

I found my way to the door and through it.  Out to the patio then I heaved the cat out and away from myself into the yard.  She tumbled through the air and flicked her tail at my clumsy expulsion.  With one more growl and hiss the cat was gone.  She ran down the street and didn't look back.  I couldn't say I missed her at that moment.

I turned around to see my wife and daughter standing in the doorway.  "But what if the kitty doesn't have a home?" My daughter asked innocently.

I looked at my wife in exasperation.  "Honey, did the cat get you?" she asked looking at me quizzically.  I removed one of my gloves and placed my hand to my chin.  When it came away it was warm and sticky with red blood.  Immediately images of a massive wound ranging from my lip to the tip of my chin sprung to my mind.  I finished my morning with thoughts racing with concern about contagions being introduced to my body and foul substances the cat left in my flesh with her vicious and unwarranted assault.