Speaking of cats,

first read this; then I've got a story.

Back? Ok, years ago, during first marriage, we had a cat. Started out as a black & white fuzzball that grew into a 14-pound cat. Overall very nice critter; any ambushes he pulled were in playing. Worst that ever happened was when he was about, oh, two pounds. I was sitting on the floor, talking on the phone, and he decided to head for my shoulder. Which involved the jump landing him on my back and of COURSE he had to hold on... I screamedyelled, he ran away, and no permanent harm done(what he once did to a vet is a whole 'nother story).

Well, he grew up downright protective of his territory. To the extent my wife once observed two dogs coming down the street see him sitting on the porch and cross the street to pass our house. Well, one night wife woke me up from a sound sleep with a frantic whisper "Someone's messing with the front door!" I'm fumbling for the only pistol I owned- a .22 if it matters- and listening to some odd noise, finally gripped the pistol and eased into the living room. No, being a dumbass, no flashlight handy.

To set this up, one of the stereo speakers was sitting where, when the front door was open, it was right by the edge of the door. The noise was the cat. He was crouched on the speaker, almost vibrating, left front paw slightly raised, making a low moaning noise fit to raise the hair on your neck: low and, had it been directed at me, I'd have left. He was waiting for the door to open.

I eased up to the door and looked out. The storm door had been blocked open but nobody was there. Whether they'd heard me or the cat, I don't know. I opened up and checked around the porch, closed the storm door and locked up. The cat was still sitting there but considerably calmed down, and I stroked him and told him what a good kitty he was.

A time or two I've thought it would have been interesting had that jerk opened the door, but I'm glad he didn't: too much mess to clean up.