Saturday night/Sunday morning I was lying in bed waiting for Morpheus to take me in her arms, feeling very relaxed after a successful day of laundry, cleaning, play, and few glasses of a classic old French Burgundy to top it off before bedtime. Velvet was at my side purring sweetly, and the only sounds were of traffic and the wind whistling around my sanctum in the sky. Purrfect night.

At least I thought so.

Velvet, who was sprawled out close to me, suddenly stopped purring in mid song, and sat up looking out the door of my bedroom with rapt attention. I thought maybe Cleo was coming to join us early to complete the kitty sandwich I get every night, Cleo pushing against me on one side, and the "substantial" Velvet on the other. This was not the case. "What do you see girl?" I said. Her attention, bristling fur, and the look on her face honestly sent shivers up my spine. I've never in our four years together seen her hackles raised. I felt a shiver go up the back of my legs as I, too, studied the doorway. I saw nothing, but could feel some sentient, tangible force close by. I don't believe in things not known to science, but trust me, something, or someone, was there, I know it. I was covered in goosebumps for no apparent reason, and this went on for some four or five minutes. A cats attention span is normally not that long.

Then Velvet gave a *huff*, and satisfied "it" or whatever "it" was had left, she settled back down once more. I believe whatever she could see left because of her presence, her staring it down, her protecting me.

I hope it never happens again.

Copyright © Bill Mason
July 19, 2001