Beyond the compound wall was a neighbor’s house. My father was desperate. He looked around for a weapon and saw an old badminton racket lying on the ground. Without thinking, he bent down and picked it up and in one smooth motion hurled it at the petrified cat, which seemed to say a quick prayer and jumped. My father paused a second and then went gingerly up to the wall and peered down.
Meanwhile I had also been following him and the action at a safe distance. If my father expected to see an unconscious or dead cat, he was mistaken. What he saw was a very angry neighbor who was massaging a big bump on his bald head. For perhaps the first time in many years, my father got an earful. He slunk back to the house, muttering horrid oaths against the cat. After he had gone back to sleep, I tiptoed into my brother’s room and re-enacted the whole scene.
Then both of us rolled about, laughing like hyenas. For many days after that we couldn’t help giggling whenever we remembered the incident.