By David Hull
The problem with cats is that they get the exact same look on their face whether they see a moth or an axe-murderer.
~Paula Poundstone
A Grizzly lived down the street from me. Not an actual grizzly bear, but a gigantic German Shepherd named Grizzly. And he did not like me or anyone else, as far as I could tell.
When I went jogging past his house, Grizzly nipped at my heels. When I rode my bike, he would chase me for blocks. Sometimes when I went to the mailbox for the morning newspaper, Grizzly would run down the sidewalk at me, barking and growling.
I had even called his owner, Mr. Albertson, to complain, but that wasn't much help.
"It's your own fault," Mr. Albertson nonchalantly explained. "You've shown fear. Grizzly can sense that and now he knows you don't like him."
Well, that was true. I didn't like Grizzly. In general, I didn't much care for dogs or cats at all. Actually, I was the only resident on the whole street without a pet — until the cat came into my life.
He arrived the way many cats seem to come into people's lives. He chose me. I was leaving for work early one January morning and I found him on the front porch. He stared me in the eye and meowed loudly.
I had no idea where the scruffy orange tiger cat had come from. And he certainly wasn't pretty. His fur desperately needed brushing, most of his left ear was missing and he walked with a limp. This cat needed a home — but not mine.
Pointing down the road, since that is where I assumed he'd come from, I firmly commanded: "Go home! Go home!" The cat didn't move, so I went off to work.
This ritual was repeated again that evening when I returned and numerous times throughout the next two days. "Go home! Go home," I would tell the cat. To my knowledge it never left the porch.
Why me? I complained to myself. I can't just leave it out there staring at me! Why did it have to pick me? I don't need a pet! What am I going to do with a cat?
Finally, one especially cold evening, I gave in and opened the front door. Within a day the cat had completely and comfortably made himself at home.
Now this cat had some serious aggression issues. That was obvious from the look of him. He seemed to get along with humans, but every time I let him outside he got into an altercation with some neighborhood creature. The tabby cat from across the street, the Collie that lived next door, even the woodchuck who resided behind my garage. He was definitely a fighter, so I named him Agamemnon after the great warrior king who fought alongside Ulysses in the Trojan War. I just hoped Agamemnon never met Grizzly.
For his own safety, and the safety of all the other animals in the area, I kept Agamemnon inside during the day while I was at work. He seemed quite content to fill his daytime hours with running up and down the stairs, wrestling with my houseplants and capturing dust bunnies under the bed. In the evenings he would go outside to wander around the yard, no doubt looking for a fight, and then stretch out on the railing of the porch.
For weeks I tried to find someone else who would adopt Agamemnon, but whenever anyone asked about his disposition, I couldn't lie. No one seemed to be interested in a scruffy one-eared cat with social difficulties.
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A few months went by, Agamemnon continued to get in fights, and I continued to ask: Why me? For what reason did this cat come to my porch?
Spring arrived late that year, so by the time the ground was dry enough to start gardening I was anxious to get to work. Agamemnon sometimes joined me as I worked around the yard, but usually he spent his time perched on his porch railing, relaxing in the sunshine and taking long naps.
One Saturday afternoon I was working along the front of the house, putting in rows of marigolds and petunias while Agamemnon napped on his railing throne. I was intent on my work, pulling weeds, planting flowers and spreading mulch.
Then a strange feeling came over me, like I was being watched. Still on my knees, I put down my spade and slowly looked around.
There was Grizzly! The dog had managed to sneak up on me and he was about five feet behind me. He pulled back his lips and snarled at me, stepping closer. There was nothing I could do on my hands and knees with the dog blocking my path to the front door. I was too scared to make a sound, but the dog kept growling. This time I felt sure I was going to get bitten, or worse.
Suddenly a hissing orange streak flew from the porch railing and Agamemnon landed on the dog's back. Grizzly began yelping furiously. The huge dog immediately ignored me and ran around the yard, then down the street, with the cat attached to his back. The sounds of the terrified dog echoed throughout the neighborhood as he scrambled towards his house.
A few minutes later, Agamemnon strolled home, jumped up on his porch railing and went back to sleep.
And although Grizzly had not been seriously injured, just a couple of minor scratches from what I heard, the dog never left his yard again.
Agamemnon became a bit of a hero around the neighborhood. The lady across the street often brought over fresh catnip for him. The family next door made a wooden sign to hang on my porch that stated "BEWARE OF THE ATTACK CAT!" Kids rode past on their bikes and called to Agamemnon when he was out on the porch.
I no longer questioned why the cat had come to me. Obviously, my guardian angel sent him!
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