At 5:00 am this morning, I was awoken by the sounds of a kitty.
The sounds of a cat purring, walking across a hardwood floor, the occasional meow: all somewhat soothing sounds; sounds that would put one at ease, especially while sleeping in a cabin in the mountains of Pigeon Forge.
This cat was not purring, walking across a hardwood floor, nor meowing occasionally. No, what I heard this morning was the sounds of a cat in agony, struggling, even. The cat was certainly not by itself, and whatever was going on outside, it was not a good thing. Feisty yells, hisses, spine tingling mews all coming from somewhere outside of our bedroom walls, at decibels only matched by AC/DC the time they were told to “turn it down.” The kitty struggled with whatever it was for a few minutes before moaning and whining in shear terrifying agony, pain and regret. This continued for nearly 45 minutes, which I used to go to the bathroom and sneak across the bedroom floor to open the blinds to see if I could see the victim of a massive bear attack or something and was disappointed (yet relieved) to not find anything.
As the clock approached 6:00 the cat was still moaning, though its cries were fewer and further between with each whine so I was able to finally doze off for about another hour or so. When I packed the car this morning, I was dreading the sight that would greet me and again, was deprived of the satisfaction of finding the source of such terror. I did, however, see a cat walking around in the tall grass, much like a kitty born and bred in the mountains of east Tennessee, seeking its next victim, or eager to awaken the ghost of the devil kitty, the creature who has a spirit that still resides in the bedroom walls of this particular cabin near the top of the mountain.
Pictures of our paintings to follow tomorrow. Keep your eyes open or add me on Facebook.
Here’s this, though – Facebook told me my photo was either “too tall” or “too skinny” so I combined the like images together to form this one…The latest is on the right:
Enjoy today’s haiku:
Little Trudy hates
her own daddy sometimes, man…
She’s still a cutie…