Bloodthirsty Attacker

Who Was Judy’s Bloodthirsty Attacker?

What in the world caused sweet little miss Judy to let out helter-skelter screams of painful terror? What in the world caused the bloody gashings, which poured forth from her body? You might inquire—what in the world is going on at this point—and was she all alone with no one to come to her aid? No, her family did hear and responded in alarm as they heard the blood-curling screams. They ran to her assistance as quickly as possible, but upon reaching her, they sadly recognized they were too late to rescue. Her dear baby granddaughter shuddered and bathed herself in wet tears. Panicked faces shone with regret as Judy presented her bloody self to them. Her most dedicated and loving husband, wanted to wrap her up and rush her to emergency. Would she let him? NO! She wanted her attacker sheltered from all harm before any caring hands handled her. Had Judy lost her marbles as well as her blood? One might certainly wonder why she first desired to protect a bloodthirsty attacker. Did she believe she must reveal Christian love and forgiveness, throwing out any penalty clause? Did she perceive she must bestow grace upon this inhuman renegade and thereby produce a change of character?

Yes, Judy had forgiveness in her heart but for who or what? Can you, the reader, of this true tale even begin to solve this mystery? I will give a few clues to expose this most wicked avenger.

1. It had flesh-consuming fangs.

2. It held sharp nails.

3. It was wild and ferocious.

4. It hid itself.

5. It was three months old.

6. It could fit into the small basket I had just recently bestowed upon Judy for her birthday.

7. It is the most beautiful of its kind.

Are you a riddle wise-Samson who can unfold this ghastly mystery by these clues? Maybe I should assist a bit and kindly reveal that it is a ferocious cannibal-like diminutive creature. It is of the animal family that Judy and I love, which I write stories about. Who loves these cherished animals more Judy or me? Well, that is certainly a toss up! Judy’s precious pretty-petite Miss Maggie Lynn prances about like a princess on parade whereby she holds Judy’s dear heart as my Cassidy and Alfredo hold mine.

You must be burning up with these clues! Yes, her attacker was a three-month-aged beauty-laden kitten. After the criminal assault, Judy just couldn’t let it be left there at the house all by its lonesome, as she thought of only her traumatized self. No, she could not go to an emergency room. Of course not! She had to make sure the thing was safe and in the basket she retrieved from her trunk using the liner to cover and hold down the wretched thing. Yes … that is where she placed the birthday gift I recently gave her. Oh, well; Judy was very thankful it was there.

Here, you might ask, how could such a beautiful feline cause such monumental damage to sweet Judy’s body? Well, I must confess, the untamed thing was absolutely wild and out of control like a netted mountain lion. What instigated this horrendous attack was the fact, Judy grabbed its tail. Yes, I know it was silly to seize that sensitive end, but Judy was desperate for something to grasp. She wanted to keep it from perishing in the dark cubby hole of the new house she and her husband were building. She didn’t want it to die in there. You certainly understand. I would hope … especially if you love cats.

Well, when Judy grabbed it by its tail that feline bit right into Judy’s fingers with deep embedded fortitude; whereby, she couldn’t unlock its jaws. When she finally unclasped its piercing saw-tooth teeth with her disarming maneuvering, it ran all over her with unleashed biting skill. It continued, puncturing deep into the flesh of her wrist and used its claws to viciously slash her body. It just ransacked her whole being with its total little savage self, which left Judy a sorry gory mess, because she mercilessly refused to let go of its tail. Later, she was questioned as to why she wouldn’t let go. She explained she knew she was on a mission of rescue.

Don’t worry! Judy recuperated after being properly treated by emergency personnel at the hospital she was finally delivered to. Following recovery, she located the appropriate home for the sweet thing out in the wilderness where nobody will grab its tail again … we hope! It was placed on a person’s property and it can hunt food and has an available water resource.

As a side note, Judy‘s daughter didn’t want her to take the kitten far away, believing the beautiful, powerful thing was too good for the wild wilderness with its serpentining and calculating rattlesnakes. Judy’s attitude—safety first! Yah right!

Second side note: Eventually, the captured thing did reveal tameness as it was petted by family members including Judy, though she cautiously donned gloves. It even attempted to follow Judy when she left it behind in its new desert valley home. Maybe she did rehabilitate it a bit through her mercy-filled, love-pricking heart placed in her by Jesus Christ. (1 John 5:10-13—the Bible)

Val Lee

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Native American Friend

 

True Native American

My family enjoyed living across the street from a dear neighbor, who was a widower—Ernie, in Portland, Oregon. He was truly a Native American. He was a tall, agile, handsome Indian; actually part Indian, though I can’t remember from which tribe. Since we all relished the outdoors, we would camp together in Oregon’s vast areas of wilderness. When traveling to a campsite with Ernie, we always ventured the back roads. Freeways were not his forte. I never complained of the length of time it took to arrive at our destination as I enjoyed these rural routes of scenic beauty.

Ernie came and visited our home frequently in the evening, being a lonely widower. He lost his beautiful bride at a young age and he never remarried. He had been a friend to my grandmother and father (grandfather died when my dad was a young teen). He had watched my father mature into a man. My grandmother eventually went home to heaven to be with her Savior, Jesus Christ. Through it all, Dad made sure he continued a man to man relationship with his faithful companion.

Ernie was the best handyman. I don’t think there was anything this old gentleman could not perform in this field. One of the ways Ernie implemented his hands-on-talents was in woodworking. I remember when he constructed a miniature church for my mother who enjoyed assisting in the children’s department of our Baptist fellowship. Our family all admired it. We were not the only ones who took a fancy to it. It also caught the eye of our cute, very young kitten. I am sure he felt it had been designed for him, seeing it was just his size. After looking it over, he slowly stepped in, moving up the aisle.

This pussy had a most lovely face and it decided to peak its darling countenance out one of the many church windows. His cute, little face was perfectly framed. Who could not help but laugh?

After so long, however, it developed into a not-so-cute situation, as the little guy was unable to maneuver his sweet face back into the church building. He tried and tried. We as a family tried too, pushing and shoving, being very cautious of not hurting the little thing. Finally, we gave up in great despair. What a conundrum! What to do? Ernie finally came to mind. He would help without any hesitation. He was a handyman and the crafter of the fine little church. Yes, Ernie was the answer. My mother, along with my two sisters and myself, marched the little church with kitten across the street to his house. Ernie analyzed the situation and implemented his handling talents—lengthy hands and gifted brain—to gingerly maneuver the young feline’s face back into the church. Wow! What a relief. It seemed there was little Ernie could not accomplish. We had been so afraid that the well-designed, petite structure would have to be destroyed. Ernie had placed so much work into it; we couldn’t bear to think of him being hurt by its dismantling.

Over the passing of years, both my parents passed on, but Ernie remained—being afforded many years upon this earth. It came to the place where he could not care for himself and he was moved to a retirement center. My sisters and I visited him a time or two in his new small residence. Later, he moved out east to be with his son and contact was broken. We still think of him off and on as he was a true friend, neighbor, and Native American.

~

Fisherman’s side note:

I never met a better angler. Ernie could catch fish where no one else could obtain a bite. In younger years, he was a great hunter and had climbed skyward into areas that no one else dared for that perfect, prized trophy. We spent many summer nights in the high country, around a campfire, with this intriguing, story-telling Indian.

Val Lee

Cat in the Oven—True Story

 

No, I did not put my cat in the oven!!!!  That was my response last night when my son, Nathan, was pulling cookies out of the oven and thus stating, “Remember Mom, when you put your cat in the oven.”

 

It did not happen that way!  Many centuries ago, well maybe not that long ago, when I was a young girl, my mom, sisters and I were sitting around the kitchen table by the stove.  My mom had just turned the oven on to preheat for a meal.  We began commenting on all the peculiar noises emerging from it . . . the banging and creaking holding strange eerie notes.  We felt something definitely needed repairing.      

 

During our conversation, the oven door fell down with a mighty force and out dashed our cat—smoldering.  Smoke flew from his ignited whiskers as he ran away.  We followed till he plummeted under a bed. As we peeked below, we could feel the radiating heat engulfing the poor charred thing.  I can’t even begin to imagine what he went through in that oven!!! I don’t even want to. 

 

He was, however, fine . . . just looked a bit odd with singed-off whiskers and that look of terror on his still somewhat hairy face. I’m thankful the Lord did not allow us to have burnt kitty for dinner!  I trust it was He who directed our feline to the door.

Val Lee