“The Feline Thunderdome!”

Two Cats enter, But, only one Cat leaves – in the Feline Thunderdome!

“MMMMRRRAAAAA!!” they howled baying for blood! A circle of twenty feral felines surrounds my cat. With him being stalked by a big feral one – Which one would emerge victoriously?

Living on top of the mountain had some advantages – privacy, great panoramic views of majestic mountains and green trees, peace, and quiet, and other natural surroundings. I could smell a refreshing scent of pine and mountain air whenever I left for work in the morning.

The downside was the drive which quite frankly was a pain in the ass. It took me almost twenty minutes to navigate the turns and twists of the road causing my ancient Ford Taurus to overheat on more than one occasion.

A few times I had to slam on my brakes just to avoid taking out a deer – as they would suddenly appear out of nowhere in front of my car, darting out of the mist in an attempt to dash across the road.

Then there was the cat issue. The three-bedroom ranch style house I shared with my landlady – “Anne” had about thirty to forty feral cats surrounding her property.

Coming in all shapes, colors, and sizes these felines would prowl around the house and gardens during all hours of the day.

They’d sleep on the deck, the roof of the house, and sometimes on the hood of my car leaving telltale scratches over the fading black paint job on my ancient ride.

These were not the cute, cuddly cats one might espy on Facebook with their beaming owners who mug for the camera.

Despite their beautiful brown, black, white pelts these cats were adorable…from a distance.

You couldn’t pet them unless you wanted to risk losing a finger from your hand or get severely scratched or bitten. Wisdom dictated that one consider these little suckers as miniature mountain lions.

Much to my exasperation, Anne would go out every night in her pink ski parka with a large bag of “Friskies” to fill up plastic bowls with dried cat food.

Feeding them was like ringing a “chow” bell. As soon as the cat food would hit the Tupperware bowls – a herd of “meowing” cats would surround the house demanding to be fed – now!

Looking out my window, seeing an elderly woman feeding a huuuuge group of cats would invariably conjure the words “Cat Lady” to my mind.

Once they enjoyed their free repast most of them would disappear into the wilds, only to reappear at the next feeding time.

During their absence, I assume the cats did cat-like things – like hunt, sleep, fight and procreate.

Well, I know they procreated – as the cat herd would continue to grow exponentially by the month and at night I would be awakened by the disturbing shrieks of feline ecstasy.

It was the cats that stuck around the house that became problematic. A couple of disturbances come to mind which I will now relate to you, dear readers.

The first incident involved my car, while the second involved my own house cat named “Mochi.”

One harried Saturday morning, as I attempted to drive out of our yard for work – I heard a horrific eardrum piercing scream of pain, followed by an audible snap.

My car abruptly lost its power steering, and I literally had to wrestle my Ford back up the hill onto the driveway again to see what the hell had happened.

I got out of the Taurus and looked around to make sure I hadn’t run over one of the cats. There was no injured cat, so I popped open my car hood to see what the heck was wrong with my automobile.

The first thing I saw was what appeared to be one of those “lucky” rabbit feet that used to be sold as charms on key chains on top of my engine. “Who the hell put this in there?” I thought.

Closer examination of “the foot” revealed it was neither “lucky” nor a rabbit’s foot.

 
The engine block looked like a crime scene with blood splattered all over it and parts of the cat. I choked back a sob as I had to fish out the remains of bits of cat and a broken fan belt.

I was later told by a car mechanic that the cat had probably crawled into a space by the engine for warmth only to be caught in the fan belt as I attempted to drive it.

From the remainder of my time living at that house, I would always hit the car horn a few times before starting my Ford, attempting to frighten away any cats that might be in or near it.

I am happy to report that this strategy worked and I never had to experience such a ghastly occurrence again.

Poor cat.

As I remember it, the second incident occurred one early Fall evening. This one involved my house cat Mochi.

Now, Mochi was unlike the feral ones – he was a fat mocha-colored cat that preferred sleeping on my pillow to fighting. He was a walking four-legged cream puff that just loved to eat, sleep and sometimes be petted. He never went outside.

Anne had gone outside to feed the cats and I was quietly reading and smoking my tobacco pipe in my room.

I was thoroughly immersed reading a peaceful tome entitled – “John Gotti – Serial Killer?” when Anne dashed into my room hysterical.

“Mochi’s in a fight! Mochi’s in a fight!” she cried.

“Whaaaat?! Where? Where?” I yelled.

“Outside…Oh, it’s awful!” she sobbed, face in her hands.

Throwing my book down, I dashed outside my room nearly plunging through a closed sliding screen door as my foot snagged on an extension cord.

I righted myself, threw aside the screen and continued to run out the door to the side of the house. I was gonna save my cat goddamit – and nothing was going to stop me.

There in a dark clearing, was a circle of twenty feral cats all screaming in bloodthirsty anger, their eyes lit with a luminescent unholiness.

“MMMMRRRRAAAA!!!” they howled as two large cats clawed and hissed at each other in the center.

 
“My God, I’ve stumbled upon a “Feline Thunderdome”!” I thought.

Clashing like two Sumo wrestlers, the cats grappled with each other, the smaller of the two getting the worse of it.

“Mochi. Ah, God. No!”

 

Without missing a beat and with no regard for my personal safety, I broke through the circle of cats.

“Take your stinking paws off my Mochi…you damn dirty cat” I roared.

I reached down, grabbed Mochi by the scruff of the neck and hauled him to safety.

His opponent was outraged, as he clawed at the ascending form of his victim. But, I managed to maneuver my cat high in the air away from his deadly claws.

As I held my cat in triumph, a house light illuminated my prize only to reveal…a surprised dark brown cat.

“Uh.. You’re not Mochie!” I gasped.

I then looked down into the arena and saw – there was no Mochie – just a large group of very pissed off cats.

Whoops.

At this point, the furious cat in my grip began to use his hind legs in an attempt to sever my hand from my arm.

It kicked at me wildly and with a cry of alarm, I promptly dropped the cat and beat a hasty retreat back into the house.

I found my cat sleeping a chair in the living room. His tranquil form in perfect repose.

I dropped to one knee and petted him. “Thank God, you’re safe Moch, ” I whispered.

Mochi opened his eyes, yawned, gave himself a biggg stretch and jumped onto the floor.  “Pffft. Chill out, Dude. Geez…look what you’ve done to my fur? ” he grumbled as he gave his coat a few irritated licks.

Strutting out of the room with his tail at attention, Mochie threw over his shoulder, “I think CB, we should talk over dinner about finding a new place to live. The neighborhood has gone straight to frickin’ hell. Well? Just don’t stand there with your mouth hangin’ open. Cmon’ Bro, What are you waiting for? I’m hungry! Feed me right meowwwwwww!”

About this story

Despite a bit of Poetic License taken by this Author – these events really occurred up in the mountains of Sonoma County. I’m just given’ ya the facts in a humorous retelling of the tale.