NICE KITTY

My adventure with a New Mexico yard Kitty ( Cougar, the feline type, this is Pg rated you freaks!)

Well, There I was,

Nervously staring at the ceiling, listening to the cougar pacing on the roof of my house. Yeah, I wanted to live in the mountains of New Mexico, Why? I wondered. My German shepherd Jack, a retired Sheriffs officer, Busily herding the 6 cats back and forth in the living Room.

Sionan the Irish wolfhound, Boofing at the ceiling. My kids, and my little brother, Staring at the ceiling with me. While I wondered just exactly what to do. Pat, my brother asked why I didn’t just break out Betsy, My rifle, and shoot the cougar. I wondered the same thing.

No, Not a chance though. Betsy, my sweetheart of a national match M1-A named after Davy Crockett’s rifle. Was in my truck, which was out in front of the house in the drive way. A good twenty five yards of open ground away from my front porch.

I had already discovered the disconcerting feeling of having a rather largish predator looking at me as if I were a pork chop.

I had first met the New Mexico giant murder floofs, while checking my mail box a few minutes before. That was when I first met the nice Kitty, perched on the retaining wall, looking down at me and thinking quite loudly, Lunch time!

Did you know that Cougars, the cuddly giant murder floofs, make a noise like a little bird chirping? Neither did I until that encounter.

Feeling fairly certain the very large New Mexico yard kitty had not changed her mind about me as dinner, I did not want to try and make it to my truck. Especially with the big kitty cat pacing directly over head.

As I contemplated several layers of monumental stupidity on my part. Amazing how hind sight is usually crystal clear!

Silently cursing myself, first, for leaving my rifle in the truck when we had gotten back from our excursion, while I checked the mail and the kids herded the dogs into the house.

Secondly, knowing myself to be an idiot for putting the salt lick in our back yard to encourage the elk and mule deer to frequent us. “Oh Daddy, look at the pretty deer” The girls would squeel.

Yeah that was a brilliant Idea! Encourage the elk and deer to come around and hang out! That’s right, turn my yard into a free range delicatessen for predators!

My attention was refocused as I noticed that my five year old son was being quiet. Whenever there was danger and Josh was quiet, you could be sure he was headed straight for the threat.

True to form, there he was, headed for the front door dragging my Flame tongued Celtic spear.

“What exactly do you think you are doing boy?” I demanded. Grinning wildly he looked up at me “ Don’t worry dad, I got this!” This was not the first time I was to wonder just what the hell he could be thinking! A couple months earlier, I had interrupted his attempt to sneak out, with the same spear to deal with a yogi, or Smokey bear type bear in the yard. Big, furry, brown, flipping the bear proof dumpster around as it un bear proofed it for a snack.

Was my son's brain somewhere in a box he lost? I had come to appreciate my father's patience and love. “ Sorry Dad” I whispered.

“Uh, no. No you don’t !” I snapped, taking the spear away from him. “But Dad!” He yelled.

“ I said no! If I let you go out there and that critter even just scratches you, your mother will kill me with a potato peeler! Are you trying to get me killed? Don’t you love me at all?” Joshua looked at me thoughtfully, obviously considering his answer. Yeah that was comforting.

Meanwhile, the girls, who had been trying to count the cats were raising quite a ruckus.

“Ok quiet! I need to think!” I declared feeling the stress growing. “But dad, sweety pie is missing!” the middle daughter announced.

“Dad Flake is missing!” the youngest wails.

“How many cats are there in the house?” I asked, My stomach going sour. “ Jack won’t stop herding them under the sofa we can’t tell.” Is the chorused response. Great! I mutter to my self.

My brother, was standing by the armor stand, Looking thoughtfully at my chainmaille shirt and Viking goggles styled helm.

That did not bode well for me, I knew what he was going to say before he opened his mouth. “Can a mountain lion bite through this?” he asked fingering the Maille shirt. “Um I am not sure…” I hesitantly answered. “I bet it couldn’t claw you through it , too badly.” My brother declared.

Josh interrupted hopping up and down, “ Dad! Dad! You could be like Bowen when He was hunting Dragons!” That did it. Josh had invoked his patron saint, Bowen from Dragon Heart. The Old Code would be quoted soon. As indeed, it was. I had no choice. The code had been invoked.

Sighing as I realized that yes I was in fact about to do this.

“If you take your shield and use your spear, the cougar won’t stand a chance!” Josh excitedly went on. Certainly more confident than I was feeling.

The girls began chiming in, a mix of “Oh Don't hurt the Cougar!” from the older two, while my blood thirsty youngest insisted I kill it and make a rug for her before it hurt Flake, her cat.

Wonderful! I thought, What about the big cat eating me?

I wriggled into the chainmaille, wondering exactly where my common sense had fled. Kitted up in my fully functional replica seventh century Romano-Celtic Arthurian warrior rig. I jiggled about getting everything tight and settled properly.

Medieval fencing and recreation as a hobby turns out to be useful after all. Hah mom, see there! I thought silently .

I retrieved a piece of left over chicken from the refrigerator. Hastily forming a plan. A not well thought out plan, but still a plan nonetheless.

“Do not, repeat! Do not come out side no matter what! Wait in the house till your mother gets home or the Fish and Game officer or the Forrest Ranger gets here. Do you understand? Not the Sheriff, ignore the S.O. , The Game officer or the Ranger only! “

My brother asked why not the Sheriff's deputy. “Because He is a city boy with only a 9mm hand gun.” Five wide eyed heads nodded assent understanding dawning.

All of them were conversant with basic Firearms safety and data. They knew the difference between 9mm, .357, and 10mm for hand guns. They knew about shotguns, and of course high power rifles. All of which, were currently locked in the safe, or in my truck in the driveway.

Taking a shaky deep breath,

“Keep this door closed behind me! Pat, guard the door!” I hefted my renaissance steel round shield, Leaned the spear by the Door and quickly opened the door throwing the chicken breast as hard and far away from my truck as I could.

The plan, was to wait till the cougar was retrieving the piece of chicken, and dash to the truck, scramble inside and retrieve Betsy.

I figured, .308 holes, could make invisible souls. And with 20 rounds in the mag, I figured I could then Shoot the cougar from the relative safety of my Blazer easily if need be. With luck the sound alone would scare the big cat away.

The moment I heaved the Chicken breast, Sionan the 185 pound Irish wolf hound barreled out of the door. Knocking me down onto the porch.

My brother threw the spear and shield out onto the porch with me slamming the door. Sionan Scrambled after the chicken breast, snatching it up, gulping it down and charging back onto the porch.

I looked around for the cougar. The big cat yowled as it appeared on the ground coming from the side of the house nearest my truck.

Sionan leapt between us, the Cougar snarled, Sionan then pee’d on the porch. Scared, but, she stood her ground. The cougar padded in front of my truck looking at us.

I could see my brother and my kids crowded in the picture window watching. I have no idea what I was thinking. I Yelled something, Probably more of squealed, and charged towards the cougar.

I could see the Big cats eyes widen in shock and surprise. I am pretty certain this mountain lion had never seen a six foot five yowling mad man wearing chainmaille and helm, with spear and shield before.

The nice kitty turned and ran, crossing the street, leaping up onto a low hanging pine branch. Pausing to look at me from the Pinon pine.

Still, no thoughts in my head except, “What the hell am I doing?!” I charged right past my truck into the middle of the road.

The cougar leapt down from the tree branch, disappearing down the game trail. I stood staring after the big cat wondering, “Did I really just do that?” That was when Sionan tried to run past me.

I grabbed her by the collar as she bravely boofed at the retreating cougar. Backing up slowly, fumbling with Shield and spear with my left hand, dragging the now courageous Wolf hound with my right. I retreated to my truck and managed to somehow get spear and shield inside the truck.

Sionan, thinking “Oooh Ride!!!” climbed over me into the Blazer during the process. I scrambled quickly into the rear of the full sized blazer, opened up the safe and retrieved Betsy, inserting a magazine and chambered a round.

I scanned with the rifle scope looking for any sign of the cougar. When I was sure there was no sign, I got out, Rifle ready and called a now, disappointed Sionan.

Come on lummox! Get your fuzzy butt in the house.” We went inside where after placing Betsy in the gun safe I walked down stairs to my bedroom .

Why didn’t I just get one of the other fire arms from the gun safe, you ask? Because, the key was on the key ring that was left in the ignition of the truck! Thats why!

I poured my self a triple shot of Jamesons. I don’t think I had ever wanted a drink so bad in my life before. I sat, sipping the whiskey alone in my bedroom, contemplating what a complete idiot I am. “Nice Kitty, pretty Kitty, Don’t hurt the Kitty daddy” echoing through my mind.

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