(prompt: 'top' Jan 21, 2021)

It began in the wee small hours of Sunday. In the midst of my insomniac hours, deep into the creation process on my computer, all hell broke loose. The furious screeching of a cat fight was followed by the outraged barking of our two dogs — faithful guardians of the night, Kelly and Kacy.

After more caterwauling (what a wonderful word! Invented for this particular event?)... and more truly award winning barking by the dogs, the outside world fell into an ominous silence, broken only by distant baa-ing. My heart pounded even harder. Had the intruding feline retreated, beaten? Or was my darling Missy cat a victim this time? Frighteningly, she didn't come when I called. Please tell me it's not because she can't... because she's on the ground somewhere, hurt. A new, most painful-type thundering pummelled my chest.

Our visiting daughter awoke to the hubbub, also deeply concerned. We searched with torches and called and called, to no avail. Amazingly (or maybe not), hubby snored through the entire war zone happening outside. The stars continued to twinkle, the dogs chose to lay down at our feet when they saw us engaged in conversation, sharing stories of past feline encounters resulting in injury and veterinary emergencies. When we gave up and turned our backs on the darkness and our unanswered questions, Missy cat emerged from under our garaged car. How long had she been there, laying 'doggo'? Didn't matter, compared to finding her unharmed, and hanging out for all the affection and cuddling we could offer.

Seeming exceedingly grateful for their timely intervention, Missy wound her silky self around her BIG sisters' legs, to their utter bemusement, although not about to reject her obvious appreciation. We marvelled at these creatures who had not liked each other at first. There'd been a gradual warming, but nothing to equal this display of affection. Despite Missy being the eldest, those darling dogs were truly her BIG sisters, looking out for her when the going got rough. I doubted they would match the 19th birthday she could possibly celebrate—but—IF they continued to be her protectors, forcing eviction of unwanted attentions like this, maybe they'd earn some extra-life 'brownie points'.

"I suppose you'll turn this into a short story in a writing contest somewhere?" Our daughter tilted her head with a lop-sided grin. She knows me too well. So many farm happenings have been 'grist for the mill' of my overworked brain.

"Well-ll, it's a thought." As if I'd entertain a thought like that . As if? Uh-oh... a seed had been planted. With Missy safely back inside, we ladies said our goodnights... again! Michaela went back to bed and I returned to my computer. I tried to resume writing of the free verse poem I was creating, but the hair-raising happenings of the last half hour had caused a writer's block. Now there was one train of thought only — writing about it.

Nothing short of writing cramp could stop me now.