Melise just introduced me to a very creepy video of a cat stalking someone holding a camera. It is one of the scariest things I have seen in a long time. If you can't tell by watching the video and then reading that statement, I don't watch a lot of scary movies.
The video reminded me of my cat Speedo we had when I was younger, in elementary school I think. Generally, he was an outside cat and would come inside when he pleased or at night. Kind of a bigger cat, hairy, soft, every child's joyous plaything. Except mine.
I can't recollect when or why he started it, but Speedo had this thing where he would stalk me from behind a large object; couch, doorway, whatever he could hide behind. It was as if he was honing his wild cat instincts and using me as a potential prey. I would be all the way down the hall in the living room and would see light reflecting off of his eyes just beyond the doorway of a dark room. He ONLY did this to ME. His eyes would focus in on my leg, and I'd freeze immediately. I thought maybe if I stood completely still he would become disinterested. That perhaps it was the kill he wanted to go in for. I was wrong. There was no escaping him.
Sometimes I could get in a warning call to Mom or Dad before the attack happened and they would swoop in to rescue me. Other times, not so lucky and I was in for a battle. Being home alone with Speedo was terrifying.
But I would see him, crouched down, like a tiger preparing to dig his claws deep in his prey. If I ran it just instigated the aggressive ambush. And really where could I run to? If I could make it to another room and shut the door, he would just wait for me to come out and it would just delay the inevitable. So I had to prepare myself and face him. Young and scared.
The stance was always recognizable. He'd crouch, maybe creep a few steps closer, and wiggle his butt. Then, he'd briefly freeze; the eye of the storm. And within a flash he would charge towards me and latch himself onto my leg as I screamed in pain with his claws and teeth buried in my skin. My dad would come out of nowhere with a rolled up newspaper and hit him with it as I shook my leg as if it would urge him to let go.
Speedo wasn't always a jerk to me. I liked him. He was my kitty. Every little girl loves her own kitty. So you can imagine being scarred by an animal you love dearly and never thought twice would betray you. But he did. And it was awful.
We always kept rolled up newspapers in places where the most frequent attacks occurred.
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