My Lovely Bride and I were idling on our porch last night, here in wintery Florida (must be all of seventy). The pussycats were circulating around, sniffing the breeze and lounging. Then, in the distance, a loud cough. Then a distinct roar.

Here in Palm Bay, we have a Lion Rescue. A guy finds home for the animals that idiots try and raise and he generally has a lion or three on hand at all times.

Well, the wind was right, the lion(s) were restless and they had something to say.

The pussycats all stood up at the first cough. Listened intently, ears forward. (roar) The gang of fur strode quickly and purposefully toward the bedroom. Gazelle had a ridge of fur up on her spine.

Walk in the bedroom, no pussycats. Look under the bed. Three pairs of glowing eyes. "We ain't coming out, we know we are small predators."

LB and I packed up for the night and went to bed. It wasn't until about an hour after all the doors were closed that Himself and Pooka slunk out and climbed in bed. Gazelle spent all night under there.

There was no need for introductions: "Lion, Pook, Pooka, Lion". They knew what was out there in the night.

Conscience, that quiet voice that says "Someone may be watching".

Copyright © Paul F. Austin
December 6, 1998