Pussy Cat

Have I mentioned how much of a 'fraidy cat my cat is before? Perhaps it would be more appropriate to say that my cat is a pussy, but that's a little vulgar. We'll leave it at 'fraidy.

Not sure how it happened. Maybe my five year old daughter was too mean to the thing when it was a kitten. I don't know. I like to call it Cringer, like He-Man's cat before it becomes the mighty Battle Cat. The thing cringes away from me every time I walk past it. Especially if I happen to be carrying something. It's like it expects me to hurl whatever I'm holding at it, or something. I guess I must have yelled at it too many times when I caught it on my table eating food off our dishes. But I sure as hell wasn't going to let that continue.

Anyway, yesterday, I was in the kitchen, staring into the refrigerator trying to figure out what to make for dinner, when I hear the cat scratching desperately on the sliding glass door. It wanted in badly. I looked out there, to see what was the cause of the desperation, and I couldn't help but laugh.

On the porch, was a rabbit. And my cat desperately wanted to get away from it. I ran and got my camera to prove it. By the time I could snap the picture, the rabbit had hopped down from the porch, but the cat was no less desperate to get inside. Rabbits, being the fierce kings of the wilderness that they are, frighten my cat to the bones. 

I remember the first time my cat encountered this rabbit. The rabbit belongs to a family down the street. They are not very good keepers of pets, however, and the thing is always out of its cage and roaming the streets. I'm surprised that the coyotes haven't made a meal of it yet, really. The rabbit is becoming comfortable in my yard though. It's here pretty much every day. It's comfortable enough to lay a bunch of rabbit pellets on my lawn. I hope the kids don't confuse them for chocolate covered raisins, that would be bad. Wow, I'm digressing a lot here today. I sound like my friend who can never get to the point of any story that he's telling, always bogged down in inconsequential details, to the point that hearing him tell a story is comical not because the story is funny but the story telling is so bad. Oh, crap, I did it again.

Anyway, I remember when this rabbit first met my cat. It was sitting there on our lawn harmlessly twitching its nose, and my cat spied it. The cat was very interested in this new beast. It went toward it, stalking slowly, stealthily. Then, without warning, the rabbit hopped forward a pace. My cat ran for the hills as though the rabbit had released a piercing, deep-throated pitbull-like bark when it hopped. I don't know if I've ever seen the cat move so fast. It was unbelievably comical.

Now today the rabbit was back. I looked outside, and there's Cringer, quivering atop our picnic table. There were no trees big enough nearby to climb up and escape, so the cat chose the next best option. This picture is much more demonstrative of the fear that my cat feels toward this frigging rabbit. 

I love that nervous look downward. But I can't blame the cat, because the rabbit could leap from its place there in the grass and gnaw the cat's head off with its nasty, big pointy teeth.

The rabbit doesn't seem to be going anywhere. So maybe there will be more stories in their saga. Ones that I can tell poorly with lots of pointless digressions. Stay tuned!