The Killer Cat

Soon after my mom and dad got married, they returned to my dad's family's house to visit. My grandparents live deep in East Texas. Suffice it to say that it's a whole 'nother world out there.

Their house sat squarely on about fifty acres of forest and pasture. The tall pine trees thrived in the sandy soil that always seem to find its way into the carpets and linoleum floors that hadn't changed at all in thirty years. Pick just about any window of the house and you could see an animal--ducks or chickens, cows or horses. My Peepaw was a farmer/mechanic who could grow or fix anything, and the heaps of half-alive vehicles spread throughout the tall grass of his "backyard" was a testament to both his ingenuity and his pack-rattedness.

My dad returned here with his new bride. After spending a day with the family, they retired to his old bedroom--a smallish room that was illumined at night by a pale light hanging on a nearby telephone pole. The fake moonlight shone through the curtainless window, casting shadows around the unfamiliar interior. It's kind of a creepy place if you haven't spent a lot of time there during the day.

Nanna also had lots of cats. In addition to three or four dogs, the feral cats seemed to multiply to infinity. One of the oldest cats that lived there had been around for at least ten years. Its favorite nook on the property was the eve of the house. It had birthed several litters of kittens up there throughout the years, and it was always a warm, dry place out of the reach of the weather.

Unfortunately, the years had not been kind to this cat. It had gained a considerable amount of weight since its young, lithe days, and it was not as agile as it used to be. It was in the midst of all these diverging circumstances that my mother found herself at one o'clock in the morning.

As she lied awake next to my sleeping father, trying to fall asleep despite the bright pallor of the room, the old cat decided to climb back up into its abode. It climbed up on the stack of pallets and crates that had forever been positioned outside the window and readied itself to make the leap it had successfully executed for years. She gathered herself and jumped, but because of her increased weight was unable to complete the landing. Instead, she slammed spread-eagle onto the bedroom window, her outstretched claws digging into the screen and preserving her from falling.

The thump drew my mother's shocked attention. She turned to the window to find a gargantuan animal desperately attempting to claw through the window and murder her. Its silhouette cast a deathly shadow onto my mom, and she returned by screaming bloody murder and waking up my dad.

After awaking in full-combat mode and realizing my mother was ok, my father did the only thing you can do: he laughed. A lot.