First off, congrats to Jen on her first-ever blog post!
Last night after returning home from a night out in Saratoga with some new friends (whom we actually met thanks to my blog), Jen and I took the dogs for a walk. Little did we know that we would soon experience. The walk started out like any other. I was walking Stella, Jen was walking Happy. We began unsuspectingly up our street. Happy peed. Stella peed.
Then, just ahead, we saw it: The Attack Cat. Of course, we didn’t realize at first what this cat was capable of. Or the ferocity that instensely boiled within its little black-and-white cat body. Stella and Happy barked and lunged ahead. Attack Cat stood its ground, fur and tail flared toward the quiet upstate New York night sky. Mistaking this encounter for the typical dog-meets-cat scenario, we walked calmly into the street and continued our walk in the direction we had been going.
What happened next was mostly a blur. It was one of those moments when you wish more than anything you could have a video camera built-in to your eyes (ala Robocop or Terminator). And you just know you could win every America’s Funniest Home Video contest out there. But alas, the scene will simply have to live on forever in my mind’s eye.
Like a flash of lightning, Attack Cat had bolted into the street, fur on end, and was going at Happy. The cat was probably less than half Happy’s size, but looked strangely similar, given the same coloring. He hissed. He swatted. He circled. Jen and I laughed, holding back the dogs.
Before I knew it, Attack Cat, faster than a speeding bullet, had somehow traversed sideways across the street to where Stella and I were standing. And he was at it again: Hissing and swatting at the 70-pound mutt at the end of my leash. This was a cat with some serious balls. Or a death wish. Or perhaps he had just finally had it with retreating at the sight of dogs breeching his turf. And this was his stand. There in the darkness on this cold Saratoga night Attack Cat stood his ground.
In his mind, Attack Cat won the battle. Not wanting a dead cat (or wounded dogs) on our hands, we retreated, dragging the dogs back down the street — in the opposite direction. But not before Jen stood up for our team and yelled to Attack Cat that he didn’t own this street.
Attack Cat beware. Now it’s war.
1 response so far ↓
1 Silus Grok // Feb 21, 2004 at 12:51 pm
Consider taking a squirt bottle filled with water the next time you go for a walk and spray the cat when he comes back.