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“No, Way!!” I said when Ms. Mar asked me to go into the dark of night to take pictures of rock falling from the sky.  She begged and at times tugged on my tail to avoid me from dashing under the bed.  I got pretty close on one dash, but she dragged me out.

Suddenly I heard footsteps as Mr. C was walking down the hall.  “Go pull on his tail! will ya” was my last thought as I gave a hearty tug and freed myself from her grip. I crawled to the deepest and darkest part of the furniture.

I could hear talking and then silence.  I cautiously looked around my hidey-hole to see if she was going to surprise attack me from behind.  Whew, that silence got me nervous, then I heard the door close and the car engine slowly faded to quiet.  I laid there, suspicious, trying to detect movement and having heard none, I carefully crawled out. Again, I listened; but no noise was heard.  As I gained confidence that the coast was clear, I walked out relaxed, but stepped on a hairball I left prior to all the commotion.  I hate when I do that… very un-charismatic for a sophisticated cat.

I think Ms. Mar is afraid of the dark. But I digress; it is not the darkness that is the problem.  What she forgets is that animals lurk in the dark for their last meal before retiring for the night. I, on the other hand, have a routine that have worked for years which does not require me to kill other cute animals. When it’s near feeding time, I usually take a deep breath and exhale with an exclamatory call signaling, “I know, you know that it is time for my feast.” As usual, Ms. Mar dutifully obeys my call.

I’m glad Mr. C went with her.  Mr. C is a big guy, a former policeman, and thinks he can conquer anyone. But he’s had his two knees replaced and he’s 13 years old in kitty age.  But Ms. Mar felt better having him along.  After all, I would be prime delicacy for any wild beast in the forest.

The story they told upon their return: After about an hour of taking photos of the sky without much success, Ms. Mar heard a noise in the dark immediately looked around shining her flashlight in all directions.  Again,  the rustling of the brush caused Ms. Mar to collect her gear and almost dive in their parked vehicle and lock the doors. It startled Mr. C as he was watching the Olympic games on his phone.  “What’s that matter,” asked Mr. C.

“I heard something out their that did not sound friendly.”

“What was it”, I asked as she was telling a gripping story of horror.  Her voice lowered to a whisper as if she turned to a sound from behind the parked car.  “Oh no, what was it?” again I asked her for more details as my paws covered my eyes to shield me from seeing IT.  Ms. Mar looked around her as if she was reliving the horror again.  Then suddenly, she turned to me with glaring eyes and yelled, BOOOO!

Well, I then lost my badder control. I instinctively jumped with fright and recoiled to my hidey-cave under the bed. My heart was racing and I was surprised at my speedy response.

I heard laughter from both Ms. Mar as she left the room. “That’s what you get for not going when I asked…”

I laid there thinking that was not a nice prank to play on a delicate wonderful cat.  I need to get even, but how.

The saga continues of the Sophisticated Cat.

Ciao,
Tux