Monday, January 26, 2015


It is night and I am restless.

I should be exhausted, given the fact that I only had 21.7 hours of sleep today. Yet I find that sleep escapes me..

I stalk the Stygian darkness on silent paws. The muted night hangs like a black veil, cutting off all light and sound.

All my minions, both two and four legged alike, are wrapped deep in the arms of  Somnus.

Jaq is curled up in the nest she has made of the comforter in the guest bedroom. She smiles sweetly in her slumber, probably dreaming of her glory days when she was the queen of the backyard karoake scene.

Tiger Lily is crashed on top of the refrigerator thingy, secure in the mistaken belief that the stainless steel camouflages her completely. While it is true that it worked for a short while, I became suspicious after I noticed that the relatively new icebox had developed a distinctive whine. Upon further investigation, I discover that it had grown a furry monochromatic lump behind the blender stored atop it. I decide to let her be for now and not let on that I am aware of her new hidey-hole. Sometimes I find it best to bank information such as this for use at another time when it may prove more advantageous.

I find Ivan sprawled on his back across the hallway floor like a large orange unwelcome mat. He is snoring with his mouth wide open and a small gobbet of drool darkens his chin. I momentarily consider smacking him into consciousness, but decide to leave him be. He was up late last night having (and losing) a philosophical discussion with a doorknob and he deserves his rest.

I sit for a while on the bed stand next to the sleeping male two legger, hoping that he will awaken to find my eyes staring at him from the darkness, but to no avail. His slumber is too deep to be disturbed by the creepy feeling one gets when being stared at.

Working up a world-class skulk, I returned to the living room to survey my yard from the bay window. As I peered into the nocturnal landscape of my front yard, I became aware of a pair of eyes peering at me from the front deck railing.

Aaaah, Sheba is also awake.

Sheba is the feral I hired to replace Jaq after I promoted her to the Inner Kingdom. She has been in my employ for the better part of a year now and seems fairly competent. She spends her days scaring birds and worrying the squirrel thingy. She has yet to bring me the flea-bitten corpse of the squirrel thingy, but I hold out hope that her skills will improve with practice.

It is not often that I have a chance to communicate with Sheba. I have always made it my policy to publicly eschew ferals. Whenever I spot one on the deck or in the backyard, I make a huge show of hissing and batting the window, cursing, spitting and showing general displeasure. This display of aggression is a bit of farcical nonsense I put on to amuse the two leggers.

I have a reputation to uphold after all.

I decided to take advantage of this unexpected moment of privacy to let Sheba know how she's doing and perhaps advise her on my expectations.

I smacked the window to gain her attention and began:

"Look Sheba, you've been doing a fairly decent job here. Your bird-scaring tactics have proven effective. The last outdoor mouse thingy I saw was in a most satisfying condition of panic. You have annoyed and intimidated the squirrel thingy admirably. Overall, I am satisfied with your performance to date.
    "However, and please take this in the spirit of constructive criticism in which it is intended, you have yet to slay anything. You have now had over a year to fill my yard with a large selection of little furry vermin parts. The ground below the bird feeders should look like the aftermath of a sorority house pillow fight. I expected that by now I would see the head of the squirrel thingy mounted atop the hat of the garden gnome. 
    "I suspect that the goat thingy may be a better hunter. 
    "So I am putting you on notice. It is time for you to step up your game. Now, go forth and commit violence!"

Sheba took this severe tongue lashing with stoic indifference.

To hide her embarrassment and shame, she sat back and began to clean herself.

Then the squirrel came up and gave her a massage.

Anyone know of any unemployed mountain lions?


  1. You stalk the Stygian darkness well ComMonster Sir!
    Getting to see Sheba was a pleasant surprise. I often wonder how she and her baby are doing.

  2. The squirrel gave her a massage? MOUSES!


    Crazier than squirrels makin' nut pies, I tell you... Yup, crazier than squirrels makin' nut pies...