A true cat tale from the Tiger archives.
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This was some years ago when I”d been rescued from the cat jail and was settling into my new home.
I was relaxing on Sue’s desk when I felt a strange tingling on my neck and knew I was being watched.
I turned around and saw black eyes peering at me through the window.
I was not afraid, no not I, but Sue came unglued and started yelling, “Bob! There’s a raccoon on our roof!”
The next thing you know Bob’s pumping up the BB gun, running outside to scare off the old bandit. It took me a while to settle down after all the commotion but settle down I did and pondered – there really are raccoons!
What else was out there? Up till then I’d been an “indoor cat” – I even hate the name, no offense to the rest of the kingdom. In my previous lives, I wasn’t allowed to go outside – not even a short walk in a fenced yard. Never got to hunt in the wild like my ancestors did or jump in the air to grab a flying creature. Instead, I had to content myself with a stray spider in the house, a slow-moving housefly or worse yet, chittering at crows and squirrels through the window.
Well, I thought, this raccoon may set back any efforts to go outside. Still, I vowed to continue working on it so day by day, I stood by the sliding glass door, crying pitifully, with sad eyes. I promised I would stay inside the fence and always come in at night when called. (Uh-huh.) And as the days grew longer and the sun grew brighter and the squirrels began running frantically to and fro, begging me to come out and play, Bob and Sue FINALLY opened the door!
And for that I will always be grateful.