Nicky the Cat is curled up in the big blue bowl. The bowl is on a low table that gives him an easy view out the glass door. Every once in a while he opens his eyes, lifts up his head and gazes out on the porch. All is calm. The warm beam of sunlight caresses his fur. Life is good.
But once when he looks up, there is Orange Cat peering in through the glass. Orange Cat (his nemesis and the terror of the neighborhood) is searching for food and a place to call home.
“Move along,” thought Nicky, “this is my territory and I don’t share.” Person walks down the hallway and also sees Orange Cat. He grabs the Super Soaker, opens the door and starts pumping away. Streams of water shoot out spraying the porch and Orange Cat as he darts away. “Keep away you evil cat,” Person says, then closes the door.
“I took care of him, Nicky,” as Person rubs Nicky’s head.
That night, from the same vantage point, Nicky sees a disturbance at the glass door. Several eyes peer through the glass, there are masked marauders wanting in. No doubt they want Nicky’s red food dish with the yellow fishies.
Nicky sounds the alarm: “Meo-rwl! Meo-rwl!.” Person comes running, toting Super Soaker in hand. He tears open the door; five raccoons stare at him in defiance, none back down. Pump, pump, pump! The Soaker soaks them all with streams of water. They scatter, escaping under the porch. Their strategy is to hide and then return. They hear the door close.
Back up on the porch for the next maneuver.
“Argh!” The door opens again. Pump, pump, pump! Rocky, the head raccoon, takes a direct hit in the mouth. Swallowing the liquid he gives the signal. “Abort mission! Abort mission!” They scatter in all directions, reconnoitering by the mailbox at the curb.
“They were ready for us,” cursed Rocky, “but how could they know?”
“There must be a mole in the yard!”
The rest of the night is quiet; Nicky gets up from the big blue bowl and saunters over to his red food dish. He isn’t hungry; he just wants to make sure it is safe and to look at the fishies again. Nicky takes a long drink from his water bowl then turns down the hallway. Nicky’s favorite box awaits him. He turns around three times, and then settles in for his midnight nap. Life is good.
I joined Writers Bloc, a group of writers from Monmouth County, NJ, whose styles are as diverse as their backgrounds and interests. Here are some of my writings from our meetings.