Well, I’ll tell ya …
Ya know, Long Beach has that there high-falutin kite contest every year and every year it reminds me a Fluffy the Flying Cat.
Seem’s like one time over in Pe El some kid with the nickname of Windy got ta playin with a kite and got kinda obsessed-like with it. His Dad gave im a fishin reel with real strong fine fishin line to hook to the kite.
Windy could reel out and and reel in that dang kite like nobody’s business. And the more line he’d put in the reel, the higher flew the kite. The family cat, Fluffy, was usually with Windy when he’d be a kite’n and that cat would have a good ole time chasin the fishin line while Windy worked to git the kite off the ground.
Well, one day the kid had the kite way up high when it suddenly caught a down-draft and started droppin. Some of the fishin line hit the ground and that was all Fluffy needed. Next thing ya know Fluffy is all tangled up in the line.
Bout that time, Windy’s fishing reel jammed. Not knowin that the kite had not only escaped the down-draft and not hit the ground, but was now flyin in a up-draft and climbin faster’n one them there Blue Angels, young Windy cut the fishin line next to the reel so’s he could untangle the jam.
He hadn’t seen Fluffy.
Next thing, Fluffy, all tangled in fishin line about 20 feet from where Windy was busy on the reel, took off like Superman.
Now she was tangled mostly around her mid-section and when Windy looked up, he became the first witness to Fluffy the Flyin Cat.
He watched her fly outta site, kind whirlin in the wind but headed in the general direction of the coast.
Bout a half hour later the weenie dog pack in Menlo was out prowlin around lookin for deer and watchin out not ta find possums. When outta the blue, literally outta the blue, Fluffy flew over.
The kite sort a dipped and Fluffy started to come down at the weenie dogs, who were wide-eyed and panicked that one a their mortal enemies could now fly.
Them weenie dogs all rushed back to Menlo in a pack, the tailwind drivin the Flyin Feline straight behind em, spittin and screachin all the way.
The Menlo-ites heard the weenie dogs and sighed, thinkin, “Oh dang! Not another deer in the tree!” Some stepped out on ta their porches and what did they see? A pack a weenie dogs be’in herded by a flyin cat.
The wind soon rescued Fluffy from her fear a her natural predatory enemies and with a last spat and screech, she flew outta sight.
As she more or less followed the Willapa, she came by my house around dark. Me an the little woman was out on the porch in the middle of a specially good game a Combat Scrabble ( I was winnin and not given her any chance ta make a word bigger’n three letters).
Next thing I know, my horse is restless, jumpin and whinny’n, kinda like in them movies where a bear is out in the woods and horses can smell it, or a dinasaur is comin and they know they’re the main course fer supper. I picked up my “Aught-six” and headed fer the horse, watching everything that moved.
That dang cat came flyin in from over the trees, saw me, and started caterwaulin ta beat the band. I got one shot off before I recognized it too late as a little Calico cat. Lucky fer Fluffy I missed her.
Instead, I hit the fishin line and cut it and danged if that cat didn’t come for me in a bee-line like the demon a death er somethin.
I dodged right quick, but the Scrabble Game warn’t so lucky.
Fluffy hit that table and game board like a kamikaze pilot hittin a aircraft carrier and all my 3-letter words and fine defense went helter skelter. I ain’t won a game with the little woman since like was a about to beat her then.
We’ll she got took back to Pe El after I drove ta Menlo and was told about the weenie dog panicked by a flyin cat. By that time, the Menlo-ites had heard the story of Windy’s lost cat. So Fluffy went home.
Well, I gotta go see if my attack parakeets have been fed yet. No tellin what they’d done ta Fluffy if I’d had em back then.
Arthur Ruger © 2000