One spring night several years ago, we were jarred awake by ferocious screeching. At first, I didn’t know what or where the racket was coming from. I fully expected to see a space ship landing in our backyard until my husband assured me it was two cats fighting in our attic directly above our bedroom. That began the saga of the mangy cat from the abyss that came courting our female cat, Patches.
Every evening about dinner time, this gray, fur-hanging beast would stalk through the field across the street and demand attention from Patches. There was another tomcat that wanted her affections, too, but this was our neighbor’s well-cared-for pet, and we didn’t mind having Rusty come calling. I have no idea how the two male cats ended up in our attic, but the raucous was enough to give Hollywood new interpretation to sound effects!
After several unsuccessful attempts to get the cats out of our attic, we asked another neighbor if we could borrow his small dog to roust it out. The dog wanted nothing to do with the task, so we bought squirt guns, filled them with ammonia, and squirted the eaves thinking this would surely drive the creature out. Not so.
Burt bought an animal trap, baited it with tuna, and placed it near the opening to the attic. That evening we heard the trap snap. Burt jumped up, grabbed a hand sledgehammer, and climbed the ladder to the attic opening inside our garage. With a mighty blow, he swung at the trap. Instead of hitting the cat, he hit the end of the trap setting the cat free. He immediately swung again, but this time he hit the floor of the attic punching a 6″ hole in our kitchen ceiling. Unbeknownst to us at the time, the cat left that later that night.
The next day, Ol’ Mucky Mange came slinking back. This time we were ready! Burt grabbed a hammer and wielded it a the cat. Of course, the thing escaped, but the claw of the hammer hooked on our bird feeder pole, twirled around the pole and went smashing, claw first, into the aluminum siding. Now we had a pungent-smelling house, a hole in the kitchen ceiling, two claw holes in our siding, and an obnoxious cat that impersonated a cat with nine lives.
The next day, the savage crept through the field as usual. My husband snatched a 2 x 4, hid by the garage door opening, and peeked out. But, Mr. Mange slunk around the back service door and sneered at my husband. “Nan-nah-nan-nah-nan-nah!” Burt lunged for the beast, but the cat from the abyss ran out toward the field across the street. We heard tires screech and a thud. The driver did not stop, and we did not care.
We buried the cat in our backyard, and if we would have nailed an epitaph to a stick, it would have read, “Here lies Mr. Mange, the cat from the abyss. Justice has been served!”
The irony of this true story reminds me of another true story – a Biblical story of poetic justice at its best as told in the Old Testament book of Esther. Be sure to check it out.
P.S. A few months later, we posted an ad: Mother cat and 5 kittens – free!