I awoke to the keening shriek of a hawk swooping down to carry me away. I sprang to me feet and puffed out my fur. No way was I going to get dropped from the sky again after tangling with one of those damnable birds. But a second later I realized the noise came not from a bird but from Chuck, and that I was no longer in the woods where such things could happen. She slammed the wall opening shut and started talking to someone within, though I could not for the life of me think of how someone would have gotten past me or already be in there, as I definitely would’ve smelled them. I walked over to the closed wall and sniffed to confirm these suspicions, and then spoke to Chuck, letting her know it was okay. There was no response from within, but a short while later there was a knock at the front of the cave and a person making noises outside. Chuck opened the wall and ran out to the mouth of the cave, opening and it leaving me with the intruder. Someone else came into the cave, a different human with a strange growth on its middle, all sorts of square protrusions, one of which made noises like the two-leggers do, but the sound of it was distorted and scratchy. My first thought was that he was carrying around a very small two-legger in some sort of container, but why would anyone do that? Or maybe it’s being punished? This theory was quickly dismissed when I heard several different voices come from the same object. No way there’s that many of them in there. I had to surmise that the two-leggers can use these objects to communicate with each other over distance, which is really amazing. I made a mental note to acquire one of these devices myself that I might broadcast my voice over the region to other cats, as it would be an efficient way to issue a challenge and then subsequently take over this new region.
In any case, the human walked over to the unconscious intruder and crouched down, looking at him and then me. I stared back and he reached out to touch my head. I did not blink or move, and his touch did not last very long. The two-legger then pulled the noisy object off his side and talked into it, further confirming my suspicions, though I held off on attacking, as this male at least seemed to be someone Chuck trusted. He walked back out of the cave after talking for a bit, and then I heard him talking with Chuck outside. I waited next to the intruder, skeptical. Did they not care if this guy woke up again and got back to his mischief? Their lack of care made me think that perhaps he was not as threatening as I first thought. Perhaps I had been too harsh to attack him. In the midst of my musing, a truly awful thing happened. From outside the cave came a horrific noise, wailing and screeching and honking all mixed as one. I had been relaxed before but as soon as I heard this I arched my back, laid back my ears, puffed out my fur, and focused all my attention on the opening to the cave. I could only think that the intruder’s fellows had become aware he was attacked and were coming for revenge. Sure enough, in barged two more different two-leggers carrying some kind of long, shiny device with them. Chuck and the two-legger with the talking box follow them in, so I guess some sort of truce was reached. I relaxed my posture and resumed my observations. The two new two-leggers put the intruder on the device and carried him out of cave. Perhaps they have a system of competition like some other animals do in the wild? If so, with my victory I was sure this particular cave had risen in the ranks with my residence. Chuck and the box-talker spoke a little longer and then made his exit. I moved my tail as the tension of the situation left with him. Chuck talked to me a little, looking down at me, and I blinked at her to comfort her. She seemed to appreciate this, and then rushed off into another part of the cave, closing the wall. The sound of running water came from within. I really cannot believe all the strange things surrounding me! For now, I decide to leave her alone. I could figure out the source of the water within the cave later.
( ©2016 Sean Dorsey )