An old adage states: "In the Spring a man's heart turns to Love". Mother Nature or her Cupid
injects this hormonal arrow in her animal kingdom friends, as well.
As I sat at my computer writing articles, blogs, twits, and occasionally doing some real work, I could see through large windows the backyard pool area. Across the pool my English wife's garden is ablaze with more colors than an LSD trip. A large Chinese Persimmon tree guards and shades all these flowers from as much wind and damage as possible. An eight foot cedar fence surrounds the entire scene and provides the necessary privacy for "adult" swimming and Margarita sipping during warm Happy Hours.
This Persimmon tree, during the fall and early winter, feeds the entire neighborhood's birds and squirrels.
As the leaves fall, the pungent fruit turns from orange to black. The riper/ranker the fruit the better the cuisine for the squirrels and birds to battle over. It also makes one hell of a mess around the pool and stains the driveway.
In the spring this tree, full of leaves, and overhanging the fence, is the favorite runway and resort for Rocky the Squirrel and his associates. A mammal Disney World, right here in Dallas, Texas.
This spring afternoon, as I stared out the wind attempting to locate my muse in the clouds (daydreaming), I saw Rocky and another squirrel chattering to each other and then running into each others arms.
I swear I could hear an imaginary orchestra playing a surging violin theme as the little lovers ran in slow motion toward each other (obviously, they had been watching too many sugary Julie Andrews movies). Their romantic interlude turned into violent lust and carnal activities. I was transfixed.
Rocky's eyes met mine. In a defiant gesture, he raised his paw and presented me with a specific rodent finger. Properly chastised, I turned my eyes out of respect and disgust. Then the unthinkable happened.
Our old fat cat Raffles ran around the pool and hissed at the lovers on the fence. The mood was gone and so was Rocky and his quickie partner. I laughed loud enough to be heard outside. After all, Raffles the cat was so slow, she couldn't catch a cold. If she had a credit card, she would be the ACME company's best customer since Wylie Coyote. She could not hit the top of the fence with a cannon or trampoline.
Rodent porn and kitty coitus interruptus, what an interesting, yet bizarre way to spend a spring afternoon. Little did I know that Act 3 was about to begin and that I would play an integral
role in "Rocky's Revenge".
My peaceful interlude was shortlived. The silence was broken by Raffle's (the Rambo of cats) howl as if preparing for a fight. I looked up to see the Persimmon tree shaking, limbs bobbing up and down, leaves pelting the pool. Curiosity, which can kill a cat, but is seldom fatal for an elder father of two daughters, overcame me. Totally unarmed, I went to the deck through the patio door to investigate.
Raffles passed me going out the door at a speed that should have broken the sound barrier. Seeing me, she attempted to stop, but did several 360 degrees slides on the tile before hitting the sofa. Regaining her composure she positioned herself between my feet.
The tree stopped moving. Rocky leapt from a top limb onto the top of the fence. His body language, eyes, and barking chatter made his position clear. This was a vermine with a vendetta. If I could have translated his "barking", I sure it would have made a Marine Drill Instructor blush. Raffles and I had spoiled his afternoon delight and he was ready to fight. It was "showdown" time.
Raffles was now pushing me forward from behind. I had my orders and bravely clapped my hands and yelled: "Git" It took two thunderous claps and my deepest sternest "Gits" before Rocky jumped off the fence and ran down the alley. I considered pounding my chest and letting out a Tarzan yell of triumph. After all, do you know how much courage and fortitude it takes for a 200lb unarmed man to back down a angry 2 lb squirrel.
Raffles now strolled easily in front of me. Looking back over her shoulder, she gave me the official cat look of dismissal and distain. She had finished with me and no longer needed my company.
Adrenaline pumping through my veins after this duel of wills, I decided to stay outside and clean the Kreepy Krawly (pool sweep) filter basket. It was totally full of leaves and impeding the KK from working efficiently.
I got on my hands and knees and began pulling the hoses and basket toward me. Raffles curiousity made her approach to see what I was doing. She immediately lost interest after spotting a "catnip"
plant about two feet behind me. Euphoria, Raffles getting high on catnip, and I, on all fours was leaning in the pool.
I never heard the attack. It was a blitzkreig. Rocky now a flying squirrel landed screaming like a banchee on Raffles back. Raffles in total panic leapt several feet in the air landing on my head.
I leapt.
Time and space stopped. Raffles and I, in mid air, looked at each other, then we looked down. No ground, just water. The water was cold. The panic was immediate. I wondered why I was not swimming easily to the surface; then I realized Raffles had impaled herself on my back. We surfaced and I struggled to get both of us to the side where we could hold on. Cold, shaking, and out of breath, we looked up to see Rocky; standing triumphantly dry and nodding his head in a cocky fashion.
Slowly, Rocky turned and strutted away.
I swear the little "son of bitch" was smiling.
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