Scruffy the Cat

Posted Fri Sep 26, 2003 in

Shortly after we moved to Lubbock, one of the college students at church had to give up her kitten. We like cats and I thought it would be good for the kids to have a pet around the house, so we took him. His name was Scruffy.

He was a little black, white, and tan cat. As kittens are, he was full of energy. Unfortunately, so was Young Son, who was about three-years old at the time. He tormented Scruffy, even given the best oversight we could give him.

One Sunday afternoon, something in Scruffy must have snapped. The hunted became, for a few minutes, The Hunter. I saw him go into the family room, stalking. Young Son was watching TV, unaware of the danger approaching him.

Scruffy crept forward, his prey in his sight. When he closed to the appropriate distance, he sprang, landing squarely on Young Son’s back. In a flurry of teeth and claws, Scruffy began biting Young Son’s head.

“Ow… Get off! Get it off!!!!” Young Son exclaimed.

I walked into the room, grabbed Scruffy, and tossed him into the garage. Although he was banished from the rest of the house, he somehow looked pleased with himself, in that fashion that only cats can do. It was as if he was thinking, “Vengence is sweet… So sweet…”

  1. Must remember to tell my son this story.

    — Lee    26 September 2003, 12:20    #

  2. Whoever said that revenge is a dish best served cold had nothing on cats.

    — Linkmeister    27 September 2003, 07:05    #