Mother hen hang'n on the saddle on our porch.
Baby Piggy. Cream - this litters mother - would change their hiding spot every other week. After they were about two weeks old we couldn't find them for a while. When I found the kittens (nestled under our thirties washing "machine" that decorates our yard) Miss Piggy (shown above) hissed at me. Even as a kitten she had a personality!
A skin crawling, air peeling scream pierced my ears. My eyes popped open, and then I realized a woman's scream had scared startled me so much that I jumped out of my old, yet cosy, bed. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled.
A woman's scream? In the middle of the night, on the prairie, the Sunday after Thanksgiving? Who would be out at this time of night?
After convincing myself it was "nothing" my eyes finally managed to close, and I dozed off. Morning greeted me with a chill, the sun with bright rays giving off no heat. My decision was made - time for some investigation regarding last nights scream.
Upon completing a talk with dad about the other night, realization finally, slowly, took a firm hold on me, and again the hairs on my neck rose as I thought about the blood-curdling "woman's" scream that had awakened me the night before.
A bob cat.. here!
My beautiful kitten, Miss Piggy, went missing Thanksgiving day. Her predator was what caused m entirety to tingle - a large, wild, screaming cat, threatening anyone outside, alone, at night, in our backyard.
This scream took my back to the book "Little House the Big Woods" when paw heard a "woman scream" and the panther leaped onto his horse. This scream in the darkness will forever make my skin crawl, and I will never be seen outside, after dusk, alone, again.