Wilderness Family Phelps

Last night, as I lay blissfully sandwiched between The Man and Francis, both snoring away, my meditative state was shattered by a short howl. A dog, I thought. The neighbor's dog, left out in this freezing cold. It was followed by yet another howl. Poor guy, I thought. I really hope they bring him in soon though. Shortly afterward high pitched yipping joined the howl. And suddenly I knew this was no neighbor's dog. A pack of coyotes had trapped something in the field not 100 yards from the very window I was now trying to squint out of. I admit, I'm a country girl at heart. But in 22 years of living in the sticks, I've honestly never heard coyotes. The sound, at first was chilling, but as it persisted, another layer of noise joined in. A hissing. A feline hissing. I looked at Francis, still smiling away in dream land (he really is the cutest cat ever!) And then I heard the sound that will probably never leave me. It was the definite scream of a large cat. A VERY large cat! This was no house cat. I'm assuming, judging by the quick retreat after this scream which was followed by a second, that our poor little coyotes' party had been interrupted by our elusive Mountain Lion friend who lives in the area. Calm quickly resumed after that. And as I looked between my two boys both curled around me, I could not BELIEVE neither had heard ANY of it...and knew they (well, Mike) would never believe me! Shoot!