When Mini Scaredy hangs out with me, she’s the sweetest thing you could imagine. All she does is roll around on her ass and purr and purr, and cry and meow when I’m not giving her enough attention.
But make no mistake. Mini Scaredy is a wild animal. When I took her to the clinic a couple of years ago to get her fixed, she immediately attacked any of the workers who tried to get close to her. Bit and scratched the shit out of them. She was like a Tasmanian Devil. The workers ended up naming her Elohssa. Which is “Asshole” spelled backwards. And that was the name-tag they put on the little cage she was confined to. When I heard about that, I was proud of Mini Scaredy. She assumed the workers were going to kill her. But she was ready to fight them to death. And hopefully take some of them with her.
When I finally came to pick up Mini Scaredy, she had been quarentined for 10 days in this dark little cage barely bigger than a small P.O. box. She had been cowering back there in the darkness for 10 days. Keep in mind, before this she had spent her whole life roaming free and wild in a vast technicolor forest. So to be suddenly and inexplicably confined like this to this dark little cave must have been the ultimate shock and horror to her. She no doubt thought she was doomed. When I saw her like that I called out to her in the darkness “It’s OK, baby.” The worker said: “She recognizes your voice. She doesn’t hiss at you like she hisses at everyone else.”
When I finally released Mini Scaredy back into the woods in the Berkeley hills, she couldn’t believe it. It was like going from Hell to Heaven. And ever since then, she’s always treated me like: “You SAVED me!! My hero!!” Ha ha.