Years ago I used to love to fish. Kept my license current & kept several poles behind the seat of my truck. I talked to everybody I knew about fishing and was always trying to be on the right stock pond, lake, creek or river at the right time with the right bait to catch the right fish.
Friend of mine told me bout a stock pond up on a farm in Lockhart we could probably get into so we set out before dawn and we were in a little rowboat on the pond at sun up, smoking Js and wettin our hooks.
It was a fun day and a successful day but a long day too. Bout the time we took our last break before gettin on the water at sundown, we lounged on a smooth bank up against some woods and ate sam’iches. As we did we began to hear faint little meowing cries.
After a bit my friend decided he wanted to rescue one of those poor homeless kittens for his gf. I had a wary premonition that decision might ruin our remaining fishing and sure nuff it did.
These weren’t your recently abandoned kittens that you could just walk up to and pick up. These were like 17th generation feral cats that had sworn to kill all things.
So of course, as we approached, they fled with got my friend all the more excited about the hunt. He started yelling orders like, “You go this way. I’ll go that way.”
Soon darkness descended and tree limbs started knocking into our foreheads. Still we pushed on.
After what seemed like hours, we cornered a small bastard and picked it up. It was like picking up a live electrical wire of barbed wire.
Neither one of us could hold the fiesty devil for more than a minute so we took turns passing her off to each other each time she inflicted another 5000 new scratches on each of us.
She hissed, pirouetted by the scruff, bit, clawed and seemed even more demon possessed than the kid in the Exorcist. At one time I swear I heard her hiss at me by name.
We finally navigated the thickly wooded 50 yards or so back to the pond and my truck and fortunately I had a small box I had bought quarts of oil in. We put her in it and we shut the lid. Then we put it in the middle of the truck bed. You could see the box jump and scoot as the kitten thrashed in fury.
We drove back to Austin and I made sure my friend took his yeowing box when I dropped him off.
Couple months later I saw my friend waiting in the waiting room of a modeling studio so I asked how his gf liked her new kitten. The spawn of Satan (as he had named it) destroyed his home, all of its contents and all of their clothes and had savagely clawed them from head to toe relentlessly throughout her two day stay before they unleashed her on humanity and went their separate ways.
It was such a cute little kitten too. All black. No more than 2 or 3 lbs.
Evil though. Very evil.
