It's o'dark thirty and this high pitched piercing howl wakes me. I get up to inspect, and there is Stupid Beast, in fighting stance, back arched, fur fluffed up, tail fluffed up to a good two inches diameter, defending the front door. I flip on the porch light and I can see tracks in the fresh snow (yes it's still snowing up here). More tracks lead down the steps and across the street. I'm not enough of a woodsman to say what kind of tracks, but they were medium sized, say from a 20 pound animal of some kind. Any how the cat seems to have scared it off.
So I say some soothing words to Stupid Beast and go back to bed.
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