I used to love dogs, but I’m an ailurophile now. When I say “I used to love dogs”, I mean- from the Chihuahuas, Poodles and Pugs totted around by Hollywood celebrities in movies and red-carpet events, to the giant Alsatian my friend Kuby Uyanga keeps in his house (that dog consumes a carton of iced-fish heads weekly and has grown into a terrorizing beast).
The only exceptions to my love for dogs were: dogs in my street. I hated those ones so very much. This has very little to do with the fact that I, being a night- crawler hate being sold out whenever I came home late by their fierce barks. Those dogs are a terrorizing bunch- they recognize the sound of my car engine and even know my headlights. So when I drive down the street, they run amok. While some will be barking at the top of their voices, others would even be braying like donkeys; even their pups yap as if they can stand me. When I try to cuddle my pillow after a tiring day and binge- drinking night, those dogs would wake me up with their bawls. This is the main reason I hate them.
Last night, I was stirred from the deep throes of dream- sex by their barks again. But this time it was for good, for no sooner had I woken from the bed and peeped through the window than see more reason why cats are better than dogs.
There is a beautifully spotted, white Molly- cat from the neighbourhood that prowls my grounds at night. Apart from the fact that cats don’t leave their poo around the corner (rather, they bury them), she hunt lizards, geckos and rats that disturb the equanimity of my house. Its often a consolation to be woken by mad dogs and on gazing through the window, see the beautiful queen “feline-night-hunter” trotting regally atop the fence.
So, when the noisy bunch woke me last night, I tiptoed to the window and was shocked by the sight I beheld. Under the glow of the full moon’s shine, was the beautiful cat quietly fumbling with something on the floor. At first, I thought she was playing with a thick and long piece of string. When the string tried to slither away, I immediately realized what it was; a big snake. I was transfixed. As alarmed as I was, I decided to calmly stand and watch. Moreso, the cat was handling the situation well, sending very loud knocks to the snake head whenever it tried to spring a bite. The snake kept hissing and trying to slither away; the cat gave no chance. The sound of her paw against the snake’s head continued to clack as they kept moving in circles, she pounced in for a kill and within moments, the big snake was tumbling over and over before it went still moments later. The cat sat there watching the snake struggle till it stopped, used her paw to shake cautiously and confirm it totally dead, and then started to drag it away. Then, PHCN (or whatever they are called these days) who had seized electricity for almost four days before then, decided to restore power momentarily and the dazed cat fled.
So here I was, in the middle of the night; thankful I witnessed such a shocking act, hating more on dogs and grateful to God for cats.
I woke up by 6:30 in the morning from a snake dream, went outside with a cutlass and broom, started to sweep noisily, sprang a surprised shout and flogged the cutlass a few times on the ground. It was all premeditated pretense to arouse neighbours. They came out with their scantily clad bodies and sleep-stoned faces, all congratulating me for killing such a huge python so early in the morning. Even the bird-eyed Cynthia, that seldom greets, gave me a hug. I strutted away with fake-pride. I felt guilty for taking the cat’s accolades; but I knew I had to purchase a kitten by weekend. With this, I could even raise a clowder, for we need more nocturnal hunters, especially the feline types.
©Razon- Anny Justin
Read more of him @ southernibid.blogspot.com