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Scooter-the-Black-Cat, The Rest of the Story




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Disclaimer:
Kathleene Runnels is responsible for this content, which is not edited by the Wilson County News or wilsoncountynews.com.
December 26, 2011 | 1,420 views | 4 comments

The very same day of the missing cat episode, I dropped Brenda off at her house just down the road, and when I got home, Scooter and I proceeded to go up to the front door. I had unlocked the door and started in when I looked back and saw Scooter poised stock still, staring at something-or-other along the walkway that I had just stepped over. So, I casually go back to see what he’s staring at and O-M-Goodness! It’s a snake! Oh yeah; it’s a rattlesnake! And I had just stepped over it!

I should have been scared for myself, but instead, I was scared for my cat. Remember, we had just ‘rescued’ him from being lost, or so we had thought. And here he was, about to get struck by a rattlesnake. But of course, the snake wasn’t getting ready to strike. He wasn’t even coiled. And as is usually the case when a snake meets up with a cat, he was mesmerized. He wasn’t even rattling. I actually, stupidly, got close enough to see his grotesque forked tongue slipping in and out of his flat, disgusting mouth!

And as Scooter stood motionless, here come the ducks, all six of them, waddling and quacking to see what the fuss was about. (My fuss; the cat wasn’t fussing.) Now I was fearful for my ducks! So I ran into the kitchen and grabbed some bread; ran back to the front porch; ripped up pieces and threw them way out into the yard. The ducks waddled hurriedly and quacked noisily to retrieve the bread morsels, then they ran even faster back to take another peek. No! So I ran back and grabbed more pieces. This went on several times before, losing interest, Scooter nonchalantly sauntered through the opened front door. And thus, the ducks waddled off. Whew; crisis averted.

But now what to do? Oh. Franklin has a gun. But I don’t know how to use it. But Brenda does. So I jumped in the car, (Scooter was by now safely in the house, probably bathing after his aforementioned glove-compartment nap), and I ran up the road to get Brenda. When we got back down to the house, she admitted that she wasn’t sure either about using the gun. So we plied the snake with rocks. Lots of rocks. We threw rocks and retreated. Threw more rocks and retreated even farther.

In the midst of all this, Franklin drove up and asked what all the fuss was about. He found the snake, which he described as “Poor Thing”, (humph!), writhing under the bombardment of stones, and he casually took a stick and finished him off. What he was most happy about was that we had not used the gun. It was a shot gun and likely would have blown a hole through the wall, or the door, or both.
 
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Your Opinions and Comments

 
PatJ  
San Antonio  
December 31, 2011 3:03pm
 
Kathleene, Enjoyed your adventures about your cat, Scooter. Who said life in the country could be quiet and unexciting? Thanks for sharing.

 
Kathleene Runnels  
Hondo, TX  
December 27, 2011 10:24pm
 
Well, I do sound kind of green, don't I? In my head I knew the cat was not in danger, but a 21-year-old sometimes lets her heart rule her head. And as for using the gun, well, we didn't. Perhaps there was something secure ... More ›

 
LynEll Flannery  
San Antonio, TX  
December 27, 2011 5:06pm
 
Question: Just how long have you lived in a rural area in Texas? The cat was more secure and safe than you, ducks are drawn to commotion, and any country kid would know if it was a shotgun or a rifle or pistol that you were ... More ›

 
Elaine K.  
Floresville  
December 26, 2011 7:28pm
 
New blog posted.

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