In the Heat of the Night

Mini Scaredy is a great watchdog. She has great eyes and great ears. And she always alerts me beforehand if someone or something is approaching my campsight. A valuable companion to have, believe me, especially when you sleep outdoors at night in a somewhat vulnerable condition (Mini Scaredy earns her keep that’s for sure).

But last night Mini Scaredy freaked me out several times during the course of the night. She jumped up from a sound sleep, and made the gutteral growling sound of warning that she makes that alerts me that something is approaching my campsite, and then went fleeing up the hill.

So now I’m on high alert, intently listening for any sounds, and peering off into the darkness to see if I can spot any potentially threatening figures that might be approaching my campsite. It can get a little freaky late at night in the deep dark woods when you hear strange sounds going bump in the night (especially if you watched a lot of horror movies when you were young — your paranoid imagination can really go into over-drive).

Finally, I hear strange rustlings coming from one distinct direction. And then further sounds. . . which sound distinctly like a cat. Making weird cat sounds. … The only thing I could figure was that it was some tomcat in heat who was stalking Mini Scaredy.

I felt like calling out to the dumb beast, the poor confused lothario: “Tom…. Dude. … You’re barking up the wrong tree, so to speak. Mini Scaredy is FIXED. You’re looking for love in all the wrong places. Listen. Romeo. I’m sure there are plenty of other gals in this world who would be perfect for you, who would appreciate and cherish your amorous intentions. But Mini Scaredy ain’t one of them.”

Poor guy. I’ve been there. At any rate I went back to sleep. And Mini Scaredy finally came back to my campsight in the morning after poor old Tom had skulked off somewhere to commiserate and cry in his milk. . . Needless to say, love stinks.

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