At close to 4am last night this morning we were awoken by this horrible horrible wailing noise.  Dave said it sounded like a baby crying.  Our bed is up against a window in the front of our house.  Just outside the window there were two cats in a stare down, growling, hissing, wailing, crying.  Dave gets up to try and scare them away.  As I’m laying there I hear this pop, the kind of pop you make when you puff your cheeks and pop your finger out the side of your mouth (that’s the best way I can think to describe it).  I look outside, and here’s Dave, in his underwear, on the porch, with Gavin’s wooden toy pop gun, trying to scare the Tom cats away from our house.  The cats attacked each other and ran off to the side of the house.  Eventually all was quiet and Dave returns to bed.  "How’d Gavin’s pop gun work for you?" I asked when he returned.  He laughed and said it was all he could think of to grab. I knew one of the reasons I married him was that he could think fast on his feet. My hero.

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