The Writer's Cramp 8/8/21
I went to sit on the porch the next morning. It was quite the news story, the lion roaming our neighborhood. Quite out of the ordinary, to say the least.
This morning there was a heavy weeping mist rolling in slowly along the street. Soon I couldn’t see across to the other homes. I prayed the lion wouldn’t return. I mean, if it got out once, the chances it would escape again were pretty good.
Lions are territorial, that I know. So her preferred habitat would have to be where she feels comfortable. And that would have to be the zoo. But…
Unless she would change her mind.
“Do lions change their minds?” I asked George.
“What? Why would you want to know that?”
“I worry that lion from the other day will come back,” I whined.
“So what if it does? It didn’t hurt us or our home. Just caused some overtime for the police and the zoo. And gave some more viewers for Larry Jordan. He had the big story. It even went to the big new networks and CNN. 'Frisky Feline Finds Friends'. You gotta admit that was a good headline in the news and in print. I cut out the story and recorded the TV news.”
Incredible. I turned to George. “You’re kidding. You recorded it? Why?” I shook my head.
“I don’t know, just wanted to remember the night, I guess. It was pretty fun.”
We sat on the porch on our swing remembering that night. The cool misty morning melded into a soft warm afternoon. We still sat on the porch on our swing. Such a nice day, not too hot, not too cold. No words needed.
Suddenly out of the corner of my eye I see a lion. Crossing from the vacant house next door to our yard. Is that the same one from yesterday? Maybe I’m seeing things, it is early still and some mist is still twirling about.
“George, psst,” I whispered.
“What? Why are you whispering?”
I nudged him in the ribs, then pointed to that lion.
“What in the heck? Well, now that’s something you don’t see every day. And it’s back for another go-round?” He stood, I pulled him back onto the swing.
“Get down. What’s wrong with you! Want to be lion lunch?”
The lion now was on the steps up to the porch. I pulled up my legs, moved closer to my husband.
“They say animals can smell fear. Act unafraid,” whispered George.
“They can also smell when someone pees their pants.”
Lion stopped in front of us, then turned to lie down near the front door.
“Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle. Look at that. Nice kitty, good kitty,” purred George.
“You’re crazy. Now we can’t get in the house to call for help.”
The lion stretched out, went to sleep. Every now and again it growled, just a bit. Its big mouth open just a bit revealed huge, sharp, man-eating teeth.
Suddenly down the street roared that same Zoo van we saw last night. The Zoo attendant got out, walked up to us.
“So, the beast is back, I see.”
“Seems to like us.”
“I’ll take it back. He found a way out again. Crazy thing.” He went to the lion, tapped it on one leg.
“Let’s go, you. You’re trespassing.”
Lion looked at the attendant, then looked at us. It slowly rose and walked to the Zoo van.
The attendant waved his hat, loaded the lion, then they sped away down the street.
“Well, now that’s something you don’t see every day.” George put his arm around me. “What’s for lunch?”
Read about the previous night: