A friend of mine is the mother of three young daughters. She is also the mum of a big, black cat named Cat Friday, who is a well fed, lazy, docile, cuddly children's playmate.

One day one of the little girls came running in, crying: "Ronnie hit me."

Mother, trying to train her girls to stand up for themselves, told her to go out and hit him back.
A little later the girl was back in, crying more earnestly: "He's bigger than me."

"All right, go back out and try and settle your differences."

Thirty seconds later, mother was chilled to the core by a really blood-curdling scream. She frantically rushed out, hoping and praying her daughter wasn't a case for the emergency trauma team.

Outside, little macho Ronnie was howling his head off. He had been attacked by Cat Friday.

PS: I'm happy to announce that no injuries worth mentioning were inflicted on any of the parties. The hitting was just young children's way of arguing, and Ronnie's screaming was due to the shock and surprise at being the target of a furry knight defending a damsel in distress.

Copyright © Magnhild Kvernmo
August 28, 2002

Read Magnhild's other story: Vacuum cleans the cat