Since I wrote a few rambles we have had a new patio door installed, new curtains put up in the front room, which I am really happy about, loaned one of our vehicles out to son because one of theirs was on the blink for a while, had our company - Gregg's Dad and his wife Celia - and took them to the Air and Space Museum 20 minutes away - will show those pictures at a later date - been out with friends, and let's not forget being scared by a banshee of an animal under our bedroom window at two o'clock in the morning. A freakish thing to wake up to, and rather blood curdling at that.
I'll tell you about the 'wild animal'. We had the windows open and I woke up to a wailing sound, constant and high pitched. It was pretty scary. The more awake I became the more pitiful it sounded to me and I started to feel upset at the thought of some poor thing being hurt and helpless right under the window. Poor Gregg was asleep when I nudged him and said, "Do you hear that sound?" "Huh?" I felt bad waking him up but my heart was starting to skip a few beats and the hairs were starting to march across my neck. In the meantime the wailing got louder. There was no way either of us could both sleep now.
It went on for another several more minutes and I finally said to Gregg that I couldn't stand it any longer, that I was going to go out on the porch and try to locate the poor thing. Gregg didn't like the idea of me going outside, "What if it suddenly attacked you?" "Then I'll run pretty damned fast back inside the house." I can move like lightening when the adrenalin kicks in. He knew there was no dissuading me. I got the strongest, heaviest flashlight I had and shone it into the darkness. The sound suddenly stopped and I couldn't pick anything out. I couldn't really understand why none of my neighbors woke up either but everything remained pitch black, no lights going on anywhere.
I went back upstairs and the wailing started up again, maybe a little further away. I said, "Okay, I'm not going to walk down the street at this hour but I think I will just hop in the car and see if I can see anything in the headlights. Gregg wouldn't let me go on my own and the two of us drove about ten miles an hour shining the flashlight into our neighbor's gardens. Probably not the smartest thing to do at two o'clock in the morning because I expected to hear sirens any time now. Never mind, the thought of that wounded animal was spurring me on. I could explain to that nice police officer as he handcuffed me and sat me in the back of the the squad car what was going on, and hope that he was an animal lover and would truly understand the batty woman with her sad, sorry tale. "I didn't know it was a randy cat Officer, I truly thought it was a wounded animal." Well, the cat's out the bag now.
Finally, when we got to the end of the street I saw what I thought was a cat fly across someone's garden, a porch light went on, a door opened and that blur of fur flew inside the house. Yes it was a blessed cat and I told Gregg what I had just seen. He said that was like no cat he had ever heard and he was doubtful, but a memory started filtering in from childhood, of the times my own Ginger Tom got out at night with his feline friends, causing such a racket that my Dad would get very upset about it, especially as he had to work the next day. I was relieved there was no wounded animal out there and I haven't heard him since. Thank goodness! A friend suggested maybe it would be safer and kinder if it happened again, to throw a bucket of water out the window next time.