All of which reminds me of a story about an encounter between my dad and his mother’s cat. This miserable animal was notoriously mean and vicious. My grandmother’s calves were criss-crossed with claw marks. It was some kind of maleficent, feline tic-tac-toe.
My father was visiting the family on leave from his exploits in the Marine Corps. Why his mom and his sister kept the beast around was an ongoing mystery to him. He’d as soon launch the creature bodily through the nearest window than feed it. It was inevitable these two apex predators would eventually face off.
One morning Dad was lying in bed and saw the vile beast through the door of the bedroom. It was all the way down the hall eye balling him with malice. It leapt down from its perch and bounded down the hallway like a tiger. Reaching the foot of the bed it bounded into the air with claws extended intending to maul its prey.
Having boxed in his youth, my dad delivered a textbook left hook into the contemptible thing’s body. After bouncing off the bedroom wall it scrambled from the room sliding into every bulkhead in its haste to find an exit.
There are no further encounters recorded between my father an the animal ever again.
Regular readers will note my relationship with cats is somewhat friendlier. It’s true, but I also feel my tolerance of felines is a matter of their proper training and indoctrination.