The Bandera Courier
Bandera Courier
Thursday December 14, 2017
The Courier is Celebrating the Christmas Holidays!
 
Columns
Go Back
2012-01-19

Cat Tales

Mikie Baker

Winter makes the herd at the Dancing Dog Ranch act weird. They remind me of kids after three days at home being snowed in. Everyone goes stir crazy. Unfortunately, a cup of hot chocolate won't calm an animal down.

Whenever we have one of those great, sunny 75 degree days in the dead of winter, I bound outside dragging the herd along for a play day in the sun.

The mistake I made this last time was letting Sammy, The Siamese Terrorist, go outside.

This 6-month-old kitten dashed about for hours and finally succumbed to coming in after a morning frolic. He was plumb worn out. Samino crashed on the couch until mid-afternoon, when he came back to life with a vengeance.

Before I knew it, he zipped out the front door and was at it again.

I guess it's hard to keep a man down when he's had a taste of freedom. As I've stated before, trying to chase down a kitten is like trying to outrun the neighborhood FedEx truck.

It can't be done.

So I let The Siamese Terrorist rip it up for awhile until the sun began to set. Then I tried to fetch him. Silly me.

Sammy took one look at my approaching clodhoppers and dashed off through the neighbors' fence and into their yard. There he proceeded to parade around in a jungle of native Texas grasses. He looked like Rambo. I think I may rename him Sam-bo.

I could tell this self-proclaimed Sam-bo was proud of his prowl. Little did he know what was about to befall him.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, the neighbors Golden Retriever dashed towards Sammy who went flying. He crashed directly into the fence. He bounced off, flew through a hole and straight up a 40-year-old Post Oak tree in my front yard.

I zipped over to find a very frightened kitten too high up in the tree for my reach. As I tried to coax him down, he shrank back in fear. I looked to see what could be the problem and discovered the dog across the street had come out to bark and join in the fun. No wonder The Siamese Terrorist was terrorized.

Not wanting to pay the Volunteer Fire Department for a cat call, I dashed back into the house, grabbed a step stool and a tall friend. We went out to save Sammy.

We agreed on a plan. He was to be the ladder man and I was going to be the wingman. The plan was for him to hand Sammy down to me. Then I would carry him safely into the house where Sammy would receive a timeout for escaping in the first place.

Somehow the plan never came together.
He did successfully grab Sammy, but the handoff was weak. We didn't figure into the plan that, in mid-air, Sammy would decide to make a flying squirrel move, land on his side and run back toward the house.

By the time I could make it through the front door and to the back door, he was cowering there and dashed right in. "Ha," I thought, "Now you've learned your lesson!"

Nothing could have been further from the truth. Samino ran out again this morning. I figure when I hear the dogs barking, I go out and check the trees.

Teenagers never learn, do they?