That all changed one day when playing in the garden, I found myself confronted by a Fer de Lance emerging from the flower bed. "Micky" immediately placed himself between me and that snake. He killed it, and ate it. Thereafter, he became my bodyguard, traveling everywhere with me. He would advance my arrival into any room of the house, and quickly search under the furniture and in darkened corners for scorpions, which there were always a constant threat. Any found were quickly dispatched and eaten. After he had swept the area, he would return to my side.
My parents grew quite fond of him, and thereafter permitted him to sleep on my bed with me each night, serving as my guardian. Unlike most feral Tom cats, he was content to spent his nights with me, adopting the human day/night cycle. After all, there would be tuna fish sandwiches for breakfast.
Stories like that make me want to adopt a cat in my pre-old age. But however much you think your cat loves you, it will still eat you when you’re dead if no one discovers it until after the mortgage is well overdue.
Sounds like the plot of Riki Tiki Tavi.
Great story!
What a beautiful story of Micky. You must miss him still. I know I would.
great story!