Alright, one more old post for today, being that this was perhaps my favorite notepad entry of mine that I have ever read! I miss living in that weird little cabin in the river-woods. 😦 Again, I am not going to edit it – half out of laziness, I admit, and half out of liking to leave it as it is – raw and untouched, right from the heart, as it was back then. (In large part because I like how my heart was then more than I like it as it is now, unfortunately). Oh, and, just in case it isn’t clear in the excerpt to follow, “Miss Grey” is my name for a grey stray cat I used to see every once in a while – only about two or three times a month. She was extremely shy. (And to make this story even sadder, I believe she was a mother cat. It still makes me sad today, so far removed in time and place (literal and symbolic place)).
wild look; grey; fluffy but tangled; wild and scared look, I might add, scared and threatening because of that fear; at times she looks a little sad. At first I frighten her, and she fixes me with an angry gaze, like – what? Like she’s prepping to strike? – but I click my tongue off the roof of my mouth so kindly – and she calms, she calms in her little spirit. And that is when the sad look reveals itself. It is still wild, though. That she cant get rid of at this point, I believe. I have often wondered what it is that makes stray cats so fearful – that fear that you can see in their eyes. You know? Well, I saw part of the reason last night.
While drowsing in my easy chair, just before carrying myself off to bed.
I heard a tussling on the porch, and thought it was two cats (one of them being Miss Grey, whom I have been talking about). I raised myself from my chair and threw open the door upon the night and cried, “Hey!” brandishing a cardboard mailing tube that a poster had come in. (I naively expected to be able to use this to break up the fight between two cats). There was a flurry of scratching claws on the wood-plank deck, then thumping paws as they contorted and rolled onto their feet – and dashed off into the shadows. One of them – the alpha male apparently – then halted and turned, and stood his ground, in the truest sense of the phrase! There he stood, half in the strange, unnatural geometric shape of light cast from my open door, growling and staring straight up into my face from the foot of the pair of stairs: doing what i fancied was his best badger impression. it was, of course, not a cat, and not a badger – it was … a raccoon! the other had half leapt, half fallen off the front of the porch, stumbling over the horizontal cross plank stretching across, just above the level of the floor and below the hand-rail. it was clearly lower on the social pecking order than the vicious goblin at the foot of the stairs, still fixing me with splayed fingers and bandit-masked eyes of smoldering malice. the other, fallen one, looked over its shoulder at me, with one foot already pointed towards the exit. i believe it would have bounded for it if it didn’t have to wait for the alpha. I stared in wonder, flabberghasted! what i must have looked like to the neighbors, coming out at 2 a.m. to disrupt a raccoon wrestling match with a cardboard mailing tube for a sword!
This is not a funny story though! what am i doing? You see, it dawned on me just then – and this was what was trickling into my mind as I locked eyes with the growling goblin of a pole-cat – … these two cretins are the menaces to poor miss grey that I always see looking so frightened! I imagined her terror at their approach, as she huddled up, helpless, on any given night. Poor miss grey 😥 …