Oscar (1)

This is the story of a fish named Oscar and a cat named Kitty-Puss. This all took place long ago and far away, when I was living in Shelly’s Trailer Park off of Fish Hatchery Road outside a quiet little college town known as Huntsville.
I had a small fifties style trailer, about twenty-five years old and so the rent was reasonable, and it sufficed for the needs of a college student. Inside it was not very roomy, as you came in the front door, there was a bar or counter coming out from the opposite wall a little better than half way across the trailer, dividing the kitchen from the living room, the kitchen being the front of the trailer. The living room was pretty much square, with a hall-way against the back wall leading to the bedroom and bathroom.
I had a twenty-five inch color console television which was getting to be pretty old; I had picked it up at a yard sale, along with a nice full size couch, and a coffee table. I also had a Kenwood stereo amp, tuner, and a Roberts reel to reel tape recorder, along with two Warf Dale theater speakers, which stood thirty inches high. So as you can imagine, there was not a whole lot of room in this ‘living room.’ I had the TV up against the bar, and the couch opposite of it against the wall, the coffee table in front of it. One Speaker was to the left of the TV with the stereo, tuner and taper recorder stacked on top of it. I had the other speaker to the right and in front of the couch, it was so close I could use it as an end table.
Now I’m not sure I remember how I came to have this cat, Kitty-Puss, but she was a young grey tiger, not very big, maybe eight pounds, but warm hearted and friendly. She would sit in your lap and purr, she would snuggle with you, and rub her head on you; she was just an all around ideal cat. Never saw a temper in her at all. I had taught her to eat in the kitchen at her bowl or outside, but that was it, at her bowl or outside, and she was good at this rule, so we got along fine.
I also had a thirty gallon aquarium sitting on top of the TV, it was beautiful, I had angel fish, red tail sharks, polka dot cat-fish, mollies, guppies, silver dollars, a beta fighting fish, gold fish; there were plants in it, a sunken ship, a sign said no fishing, just an all around nice aquarium. My friends would marvel over it and of course the cat was intrigued. But it was covered, had a nice light, so the cat and the fish got along dandy.
Then one day this fellow, Jimbo, moves in next door, another college student and he has a big dog. Big!! Dog. Uriah-Heap is his name. This critter is a cross between a Great Dane and a Black Lab. So it’s pretty much the size of the Dane, but with the temperament and color of the Lab. Just a big black friendly beast, there wasn’t a mean bone in this animal’s body.
Now Kitty-Puss pretty much got along with all the dogs, for there were quite a number of them in this trailer park, four or five anyway. She would cuddle with them, purr at them, sit on them, rub on them and generally got along. Well turns out she didn’t know Uriah-Heap all that well and was just a bit leery of him.
So we are sitting and standing around my front porch, which is no more than a four-foot square sitting in front of my door. Jimbo and myself and our girl friends, shooting the breeze, talking about school, life and what have you. I was sitting on the porch, with my feet on the first step and Kitty-Puss sitting next to me, as she does, rubbing on me and purring to beat the band. When out of nowhere, Uriah-Heap comes running up, right to the porch, and sticks his face right in the face of Kitty-Puss, and barks, “Wolf”. Well apparently this was not the thing to do to Kitty-Puss, cause without a word, she latched onto Uriah-Heap’s face with all twenty claws, and held fast. So now we have a one-hundred thirty pound dog dancing about the yard, squeeling, and shaking his head, with an eight pound cat attached to his face, via her claws. Well we started laughing, but the dog didn’t think it was so funny, for he continued to dance, squeal and shake his head until the cat finally gave it up and turned lose, and came back over and sat back down next to me. Now the cat was untouched, but the poor dog, was a holy, bloody mess, and off he went to hid. Well, Uriah-Heap never barked in Kitty-Puss’ face again. But that’s not what this story is about.