Satan's Cat

Some time last week, we were sitting in the living room when Chrissy yelped, “Look, a kitty!” Indeed, there was a cat in our backyard, well camouflaged against our fence at dusk. But even from the window, he looked a little odd. Mange never stopped Chrissy from petting a cat (c.f. Guadalajara, 2004), so she went out to try to get a closer look, against our better advice. We could tell, even from far away, that something was not quite right, and when he disappeared into a hole in the earth (or our fence), we were convinced that we had been visited by an emissary of the dark lord himself. (Corinne and I had been cracking a lot of jokes about going up in flames.)

Today, Satan’s Cat visited us again. I am downright certain—that cat has bobcat ears. He might not be 100% bobcat, but he’s got what looks like a coarse coat, striped (ringed, actually) like no tabby I’ve ever seen, and not quite a stumpy bobcat tail, but not quite housecat tail either. I don’t think I’ll be quick enough with the camera, but I do plan on watching my back.