(prompt: 'run' 11/12/2020)

When I opened the door, a pleasant, smiling face confronted me. "Hallo, I'm Mary Daniels, from the other end of the street..." Her dimples deepened and she chuckled as she continued, "I'm sorry to bother you, but I simply had to come and share a funny story about your cat and my dog. Do you have a few moments to spare?"

I had a sneaking suspicion what was coming, but this Mary Daniels was obviously eager to tell me her story, so I encouraged her, inviting her to sit down at a rather nice little outdoor setting we had on our front verandah... so handy for a time like this when I could avoid feeling uncomfortable about not inviting a newcomer inside before knowing them a little better. Moving back to the city from a country town had made me a little wary of strangers. An odd situation, after knowing almost everyone.

"The first time Trixie pulled me bodily across to the other side of the street from your place, I thought she was on the scent of something interesting to her. You know how dogs are?" Mary's dimples deepened again. "... but there was something different in her attitude. More an eagerness to get away as quickly as possible, than being in pursuit of something, well-ll... like I said, you know dogs? I mean, I'm assuming you do?"

I nodded and smiled. Hmm... I was surely on the right track. Our Smokey had been at it again. Terrorising the neighbourhood's dogs! And we'd only moved in two weeks ago. And once again I wondered at the friendship between Smokey and our dogs. Uhrr, perhaps tolerance was more to the point.

And once again, MY version of the old song played in my head (always by the unforgettable Burl Ives)—

'On Top WAS Old Smokey,

all raring to go,

She's giving fair warning

Don't pass by too slow'

I guess I should have known. It was not so much a matter of her reputation following her, as it was her starting a brand new, equally ferocious one in her new home. I fondly imagined her rubbing her small paws together in gleeful delight at the thought of this next challenge; rolling up her hairy 'socks', as it were, ready for action.

After all, she had the notches for a pair of pit-bull terriers on her imaginary belt. It had taken more than one lesson for them to learn to run 'faster than a speeding bullet' as they passed our corner.

'Linger at your peril' was the translation of the deep, threatening growl she issued as she emerged from a bush on the very corner of our corner (as her mother, I understood these things). With one grand leap for cat-kind, she was on the back of her latest victim, holding on like a super flea with her needle claws. Not for long, you understand. Only long enough for those dastardly dogs to learn...

CATS RULE, RIGHT?!?

Image by Leandro De Carvalho from Pixabay

Embroidering by Christine Larsen from Australia