The Conclusion to my Weekend

On this Sunday night, as a source of inspiration I have decided to write about a poor civet cat stuck on the top of our flagpole in front of our house (the U.S. Ambassador Residence). Now, you are probably thinking: What the heck, this sounds pretty wack, so here goes the story.

I have a nine-year-old, still-fiesty dog named Pucci, who is a blonde labradoodle. He looks something like this.

Pucci is 75% poodle, hence labradoodle (kind of sounds like poodle). As part of his poodle genetics, he loves to chase and ultimately murder furry animals and rodents. He lives to kill cats. Over the years, he has killed approximately 4 cats, and still counting, (thank goodness none of his victims have had a name or belonged to anyone).

Now, for the past hour, this poor civet cat has been balancing himself on the decorative ball at the top of the 30-foot high flag pole. I really feel for that poor critter, he was just roaming around our garden minding his own business when all of a sudden, my murderer of a dog galloped over to him and started chasing him and barking his head off. This poor cat sprinted as fast as his legs could take up to the highest thing he could find, the flagpole.

Just a little side fact:  this incident took place during our dinner. Our peaceful conversation on the screened on porch was interrupted by intense barking and screeching.  We figured Pucci was chasing something but we did not know what. My dad left the table to check it out and came back with the report.

After we ate the last bites of our homemade cheery ice cream,  my dad decided to talk to our local guards to see if they could help get this helpless critter down. They surprisingly knew quite a bit about civet cats, but that did not surprise me considering the fact that they were able to get a huge (five-foot long) monitor lizard our of our staff bathroom, but that is another story for another day.

The guards told my father, "no problem sir, we will get him down." They grabbed their flashlights, walked over to the base of the flagpole, and flashed the light right at the critter. My dad, thinking that wasn't the best way to get a cat down, told the guards so. One of the guards had an idea and went back to the guard hut. A few seconds later he returned with a whistle type thing, and blew it a couple of times. The cat perked up his ears and surely enough started to ease his way down, head first. Once he hit ground he sprinted off, and hopefully will never come back, unless he is willing to test the whole cats have nine lives motto.

I really do have sympathy for all the animals that have had encounters with my dog, it must be terrifying for them!

So the conclusion to my busy weekend as I am writing this, after finishing my last bits of homework is chilling with my brother's hedgehog sleeping in my lap, and Pucci drooling all over hoping to one day get a taste of him. Hopefully that will never happen.