In which Big Butch is stared of Barry
Oct. 12th, 2006 11:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
desperanceBarry spends a lot of time in windows, gazing out. I assume this is to reproach me for not letting him out to commit mayhem in the neighbourhood; I assuage my guilt by trying to make him comfy, laying towels on windowsills &c.
When I pass a Barry-containing window, though, he usually takes note of me, if only to ensure that I have taken note of him. Tonight, on my way to m'bath, he was in the upstairs landing window as oftentimes at night, it gives him the best view of his back yard and all the other lovely tempting yards he can no longer get to - and he was very intent on something out there, so much so that he took no notice of me at all. Also, his tail was twitching.
So of course I looked - and whoa, big bad butch of a tom-cat, strolling along neighbour's back wall, heading for our yard. Barry didn't make a sound, he just stared. Incredulity, or rage? Who can say? He stared - and I swear, that cat felt it. It paused, on the very brink of our back wall; and looked straight up, straight at Barry; and crouched a little, and stared back. Again, no noise: just with the staring.
Barry is younger, lighter, much less experienced. He might have the reach in a boxing tourney, but I don't think reach applies in staring contests. I don't know what does apply, what the rules are; all I know is that Barry was triumphant. He totally pwned that cat. It never ventured a paw onto our territory; it turned and positively slunk away, and got the hell down off that wall as soon as ever it could.
At which point Barry jumped down from the windowsill and bit my ankles. In lieu, I guess. Whatever.
In other news: I still can't breathe. It's been a week since the asthma nurse gave me top marks for breathing management, and I haven't had a clean lungful since. Trouble is, if I went back tomorrow it'd take a week to get an appointment, and by then I'll either be better or dead. Whatever.
When I pass a Barry-containing window, though, he usually takes note of me, if only to ensure that I have taken note of him. Tonight, on my way to m'bath, he was in the upstairs landing window as oftentimes at night, it gives him the best view of his back yard and all the other lovely tempting yards he can no longer get to - and he was very intent on something out there, so much so that he took no notice of me at all. Also, his tail was twitching.
So of course I looked - and whoa, big bad butch of a tom-cat, strolling along neighbour's back wall, heading for our yard. Barry didn't make a sound, he just stared. Incredulity, or rage? Who can say? He stared - and I swear, that cat felt it. It paused, on the very brink of our back wall; and looked straight up, straight at Barry; and crouched a little, and stared back. Again, no noise: just with the staring.
Barry is younger, lighter, much less experienced. He might have the reach in a boxing tourney, but I don't think reach applies in staring contests. I don't know what does apply, what the rules are; all I know is that Barry was triumphant. He totally pwned that cat. It never ventured a paw onto our territory; it turned and positively slunk away, and got the hell down off that wall as soon as ever it could.
At which point Barry jumped down from the windowsill and bit my ankles. In lieu, I guess. Whatever.
In other news: I still can't breathe. It's been a week since the asthma nurse gave me top marks for breathing management, and I haven't had a clean lungful since. Trouble is, if I went back tomorrow it'd take a week to get an appointment, and by then I'll either be better or dead. Whatever.