Thanks so much for the deep, delicious belly laugh Della, and your little
Tumbleweeds!  That was SO funny to me, because all three of my cats and my
four ferrets all know Psycho too!  They've been scaring the stuffing out
of me for years, each time they hear him approach with his big long knife.
They can see his shadow stalking me, even when all the lights are off, and
everything is silent and dark.
 
Before I was married, when I lived alone, I could hear him roaming around
outside my windows, bumping into things in the dark, even nibbling on the
roofing shingles, or scuffling around underneath the barn.  Watching the
cats observing Psycho, with their special x-ray vision and telepathic
powers, used to send chills up and down my spine.  It got so I watched them
more closely than I watched the TV at night, as I clutched the phone in my
hand, with my finger poised above the 911 autodial button.
 
Soon, I began to pick up on their special powers, and I began seeing Psycho
too.  The really creepy thing was that Psycho had powers that the original
factual movie documentary never revealed about him.  Sometimes he took on
the form of little black rats, that would skitter up and down the paper
birches outside my living room window at night, making unnerving squealing
and rattling noises.  Other times, he appeared to be a big stupid opossum
that would amble back and forth, trying to figure out how get into the
garbage can.
 
Thanks to my precious fur-psychics, I had an early warning system that
helped me to develop a calm, sensible approach to Psycho's surprise visits.
Eventually, I was able to safely and peacefully sleep under my bed,
surrounded by my furry Psycho-warning system, at least one Bible clutched
tightly in my arms, the crucifix I inherited from my grandmother clenched
in my frozen fingers, and my mom's huge cast iron skillet, permanently
ensconced in the white-knuckled grip of the stronger of my two hands.  I
learned to sing Amazing Grace in my sleep, along with the Lord's Prayer,
and could sleep with my eyes wide open.
 
My calm and rational coping skills eventually quit working for me though,
when I learned to hold my breath (so Psycho couldn't track me down by
sniffing out the toothpaste I used before going to bed) and passed out.  I
awakened the next morning, and discovered Psycho had managed to get into my
garbage and drag rotting food particles under the barn, leaving an obvious
trail to his hideout, and I hadn't even heard him do it.  Thanks to my
ferrets, I had learned that anything remotely pleasant smelling on my
breath would create an invisible trail that Psycho could follow in the
deepest, darkest, most silent of nights.  My ferrets educated me by trying
to pick my teeth, wash my face, lips, yea, even trying to check my tonsils,
for food odors that might alert Psycho.
 
When I once was foolish enough to leave my door open on a hot summer
evening, with only the screen door separating my furkids and me from the
night, I SAW Psycho.  I don't know what he did with the knife, but he had
taken on the appearance of a big, fat raccoon, and he tried to fool me into
"feeding" him and his three "babies", which I knew to be a mental trick, an
aberration of the mind, projected onto me, so that I would dare to open my
door, and let him sneak in when I wasn't looking.  Fortunately, my macho 20
lb cat, fat Albert Schweitzer the Second, knew instantly, that our little
indefensible household was in danger, and he began praying in tongues, kind
of an eery, blood curdling "mmmrrrowlie-rowlie-rrrrowwwlllie" sound.  My
ferrets were all war dancing and urging Albert on, mouths open, as they
added their own chittery prayers, and bounced off his spiky-furred back,
with their "amen-brother AL" pats on the back.  Brother Albert wasn't
looking for encouragement though.  Psycho wanted a closer look at this
praying "fiend" and was coming closer to the screen door to investigate.  I
could see in "his" eyes that Albert looked like a giant gray and white egg
to him, perfect for a little feast, and I was mesmerized as I waited,
frozen to the spot, for the big shadowy knife to appear.
 
Thank God for marriage and war-dancing fur-beans.  I don't know what they
did, except that their chittery prayers must have worked.  The spell was
broken.  I awoke in my bed, with fur-beans pouncing on my head.  Brother
AL, was simply Fat Albert, the cat, and he was chewing on my head, between
pounces from the jumping fur-beans.  He was hungry and that's how he tells
me about it, early in the morning, when Oliver, the smart-bomb (also a cat)
smacks the reset button on the alarm clock, or slaps it onto the floor.
(Oliver has a knack for learning by watching everything I do).
 
Once I was married, Psycho decided that 8 opponents (7 critters and a
husband) were too many.  He just disappeared.  For me, anyway.  The cats
and the ferrets still see something, but I'm certain it's not Psycho.  In
fact, I think it's my guardian angel, because they aren't scared of "him"
and haven't tried to scare him off.  I get the feeling that whatever they
see, he's extremely entertaining, they can understand every word he's
saying, and pay rapt attention to whatever it is he's doing.  So, now I
have two "Angels" in my house.  One is a tiny albino MF ferret princess
named Angel Baby, the other is "Angel" who watches over and protects me,
called thus, because he hasn't seen fit to tell me his real name yet.  I
guess if he did, he'd scare the life out of me, and that would be
counter-productive to his purpose.
 
Oops.  You'll have to excuse me.  These guys in white coats (not angels)
have been chasing me, and they just found me again.  I don't think they're
very happy about me using their computer.  One has a white jumpsuit in his
hands and he's telling me it's time to play dress-up again, but somehow,
I just don't trust him.  My ferrets tell me it's time to make my escape.
They tell me there's a hidey hole behind the filing cabinet.  I'll get
back to you if I make it............
[Posted in FML issue 2773]