Fluffy (Part II)

Published 8:58 am Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Something mysterious happens when the human condition is confronted by danger. The senses, like a bowstring, become taut and rise to the occasion. Science tells us the body secretes substance for such a time. Strength doubles and reaction time divides. One becomes more aware, more cunning, stronger, fiercer.

Becky’s eyes flashed open from momentary darkness. The intruder’s hand gripped tightly across her mouth, his other arm clamped around her waist. Things looked bad.

Fluffy blinked and twisted her stiff neck. Her attacker had not completed his job. The cat, hearing the scuffle in the kitchen, bounded off the couch. Though sore and aching from her encounter, she sensed her owner was in danger. Through the doorway, onto the chair, springing off the counter, Fluffy soared through the air, claws exposed, teeth bared.

The attacker sensed something warm and furry descend on his head. What felt like a needle scraped his left eye, while something like a vice with teeth clamped onto his right ear. “What the …?” he thought. Distracted, he momentarily relaxed his grip on his victim.

Its been said that should you have the choice of being attacked by a ravenous lion or a cornered woman, choose the lion, for there are parts of you a lion will not devour. Perhaps our intruder was unaware of such advice.

Seizing the opportunity, Becky opened her mouth and bit down on all the flesh it could find. A man yelled as she raised her elbow and rammed it backwards. It found ribs. She was now free. Wheeling around, the light was just such to expose her target. “Whap!” went a right knee into the bullseye — the groin area. Her attacker doubled over as Becky reached for her favorite 12-inch cast-iron frying pan. With a two-hand swing that Babe Ruth would commend, she connected against a burly jaw that sent teeth and blood spraying. A thought crossed her mind that she would find amusing upon future reflection. “Darn! I just mopped the kitchen floor.”

When the police arrived, they found an unconscious man lying on the floor. Glancing in the adjacent room, they surveyed the scene, stared at each other and scratched their heads. In the den sat a woman holding a cat on her lap, gently stroking its neck as its tail swung to and fro.

“We have another winner!” blared from the TV.

The woman smiled. The cat stared at the screen.