By The Campfire

July 25, 2008

A few blogs ago, I wrote about Rudy, our Jack Russell, and a nest of baby birds and a new cat in the neighborhood. The new cat has come out of the sewer and isn’t shy about his intentions. He is a skinny and fearless sewer cat, the worst adversary in the suburbs. His prowess became evident last week in the latest episode of our ongoing backyard drama.

Skinny Cat, formerly of the sewer, chased, Stripe – the local chipmunk that lives in a hole beside our garage – around the yard for a while and then noticed my daughter on the deck. This distraction allowed Stripe to escape back down his hole.

Skinny cat, showing no hesitation, as most strays do, walked right up the deck steps and began meowing at my daughter. She talked to the cat and figured he was hungry. So she went to get some of Rudy’s food because she felt bad for poor, ratty-furred Skinny Cat. That’s when the story turned Rudyard Kipling-ish.

Rudy was inside. He heard the meowing out back. He came to the top of the stairs. He saw my daughter snag a cup of his food and walk toward the deck. He connected the dots: His food. That cat. No way.

He flipped his Tasmanian Devil switch to HI and came down the stairs in a whirl of spinning feet and deafening barking, aimed straight up into the air as if he was trying to call down the wrath of the Almighty upon either my daughter or Skinny Cat or both. He never touched a single step. It was as if he was flying, like Underdog. Rudy skated across the kitchen floor in a Puddle Jack blur and slammed his face into the half-open, glass back door like an 18-wheeler hitting a wall at 70 mph. The entire house rattled. Rudy was undaunted, his thick Jack neck and massive chest swollen with muscular revenge.

He curled his torso around the door and exploded onto the deck. My daughter saw it would be hair and hell flying if she didn’t grab Rudy. He zeroed in on the cat with a growl that came straight up from his butt, roared through his compact torso and ballooned from his mouth like a Gatlin Gun spewing bad intentions.

The cat was as cool as a steak at the grocery store. My daughter caught Rudy in full leap, almost knocking her down. Skinny Cat looked like Robert Deniro in Taxi Driver; his only response was a subtle smirk like he was mouthing, “Damn. Missed another meal.”

Skinny Cat turned and trotted off down the deck steps and hoped up on the fence and went into the neighbor’s yard. My daughter let Rudy go after seeing her arms were scratched to look like a road map in red.

A little while later, a commotion started in the neighbor’s back yard that sounded like two weed whackers making whoopee in a wind tunnel. The wailing was unearthly and the response to the wailing was like a Marilyn Manson concert.

Skinny Cat and Neighbor Cat were about to get medieval on each other. Rudy was stoked.

Skinny Cat was on the neighbor’s deck where their cat was eating. Skinny Cat and the Neighbor Cat were faced off like UFC combatants. Their two tails were not wagging, but jerking like ropes in spasms. Backs were arched. Faces were twisted like gargoyles. Claws were unsheathed.

Rudy ran down the deck steps and slid to a stop and stood at the fence. No barking. He was oddly silent. He turned to look at us as if to say, “Whoa, this is gonna be ugly.”

Neighbor Cat stepped in front of his food bowl. Skinny Cat turned into Jackie Chan Cat and leaped into the air slapping Neighbor Cat hard upside his tabby head. Rudy stood in awe as Skinny Cat beat the meow out of Neighbor Cat. It was hard to tell exactly what was happening but it could have been mistaken for a special effect in a movie. Eight legs, two heads, dozens of teeth and claws spun in a dance of pain. The wood on the deck was desperately scratched and the air above it was bathed in sounds made only when ABS brakes kick in.

When the hairballs settled, Neighbor Cat was off the deck and out in the yard, limping and looking back over his shoulder in shame. Skinny Jackie Chan Cat was having dinner on the deck. Skinny Cat turned to look at Rudy and grinned. Maybe it wasn’t exactly a grin, but it was some kind of cat expression of “You want some of this?”

Rudy watched Skinny Cat eat Neighbor Cat’s food. Skinny Cat left and went back to the sewer to sleep it off. Rudy took it all in like a security camera. He is processing the information now for later use.

I hate to imagine the eventual altercation between Skinny Jackie Chan Sewer Cat (whose name is getting longer by the adjective) and Stewing Rudy Jack Russell. But I know it is coming.

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