Walter is on guard. He paces hyper-alert to the enemy intruder. He walks the perimeter all senses peaked. Something stirs in the east. He lowers himself and becomes one with the ground. In his mind he stalks unseen. The cruel reality, this cow colored cat can not camouflage himself in autumn leaves. Still, he nearly army crawls to the edge of the property. It’s the pale orange one. He always comes from the west. Walter makes his “mine, beat it” call and rushes at he who has no rights to this land.
He catches movement in his periphery. It’s the big grey. Are they working together? No matter, he tears off to the east. Big grey isn’t looking for a fight today. He heads back to the pines.
And so it goes. Walter’s campaign to free our land of ferrel cat. This old tom of ours. He is big. Long and strong. In his youth he could pull birds from the air. His eleven year tour of keeping us safe has not left him without wounds. He has a bad knee , a missing back claw, the tip of one ear was lost to the fight. There was the run in with the garage door that took a couple of his teeth. Yet, he re-enlists every night for our liberty.
When Walter comes in, he hangs his military hat. He takes all twenty pounds of his muscle and finds me. He drapes himself across my lap and falls into the sleep of the dead. Inside, Walter is just like any other house cat. You wouldn’t know it to look at him, that he is a hero. We have tried to keep him in, but the call to protect is too strong. Walter must as swear the call of duty.E