This fiendish creature kept me up all Friday night. We were camping out back by the pond (can anyone say brrrrr? It got down to the low thirties!). For the first time in our long history of family campouts, our beloved kitty (alternately known as Chloe or Killer the Destroyer) joined us by the fire. A pleasant surprise, especially since she’s a warm littler bugger and snuggled my kids.
When I crawled into my tent at bedtime (by the way, the stars were stunning—glittery points marching in formation across the wide sky, making me feel small and infinite at the same time), I had no idea that Killer was hiding out under my cot, waiting to terrorize me. Me, the source of all things good—food, water, a vaguely clean litter box.
While my dream self wandered an arctic wasteland (thirty degrees, remember?), the kitty struck. She tore back and forth through the tent, bouncing off the fabric walls, jumping from cot to cot, prompting a shrieking contest between my husband, my son and me. I won’t mention who won. Not wanting to deprive Killer of a night of hunting, we tossed her outside. Unfortunately, she persisted in hunting us, attacking through the tent walls. As the night progressed, the little monster snuck back in the tent whenever someone stepped outside for a potty break.
Boom! She’s on the foot of my cot. Pitter patter, she runs along the side of my body, pounces on my head, then leaps to the floor—I’m sure she’s laughing—to start it all again. Apparently she also terrorized our other sons and their friends who slept in a different tent. One woke, poked his head out of his sleeping bag only to have the cat dart in before he could figure out what she was. Needless to say, darling Chloe will hunt in the house the next time we camp out!
What funny or crazy things have happened to you while enjoying the great outdoors?