A Minor Border Skirmish

It's minutes after midnight and we have just gone to red alert (CatCon 2). The fighters have been scrambled; they are on the taxiway, engines idling, already cleared and ready for takeoff, . . . .

The cause? A couple of the (all too many) feral tom cats in the neighborhood have just had a close encounter of the loud kind right outside my office window, and their eerie, bean sidhe caterwauling has put the wind up my whole squadron. Jaks, the baby (6 months) v-e-r-y c-a-r-e-f-u-l-l-y poked his head out from between my feet. Gobi, feisty and irascible, rolled to his feet and crouched down on all fours, swiveling his ears. There were some pretty salty yowls being exchanged outside. Jaks crept forth and sat up on his haunches like a little meerkat, then strategically redeployed to the bunker under the bed, slinking off across the carpet like a thin black shadow.

Since I'm back in my office, I didn't see how the other two reacted, but I can guess. Jett, the grand old man of the squadron, would have made straight for the Liberry window by Phred, and Stormie, small and high strung, would have either patrolled the hall anxiously or headed for the nearest chair back to scan the horizon for intruders.

It turned out to be just a minor border skirmish, nothing but fur puffing, back arching and catcalls; no claws were drawn. All is now quiet, and has been for a good quarter of an hour, but we are still nervous and edgy. Gobi is still crouched on the floor, sphinx-like, by my side, as if on sentry duty.

The bed will be crowded tonight.