I SHOULD have been prepared!

I wasn't... at all!  I should have been. I was a Girl Guide. I am organized.  However, what transpired this morning really could not have been prevented, I think. It was a P+E+R+F+E+C+T storm.

Mamacita and I were strolling back to her apartment, after having enjoyed a lovely coffee and French "biscuit sablé" outside on the patio, at the local bistro/café.  I was in a very Zen, relaxed mode, not Energizer Bunny mode like I usually am.  It was too warm and humid for that. Vimy had come along; I had him on an old leash, which turned out to be very unfortunate.  His good, expensive retractable leash is always hanging at the back door, ready to head out for a walk anytime.  His second, older retractable leash is always in Jiminy Cricket's trunk, but NOT today. I am going camping; I had already packed away this leash, with all my other gear, in the house, ready for our trip.  So, all I had was this relic, which I mistakenly thought would do FINE.

We rounded the corner to Mamacita's and were maybe 10 steps from the front door, when Vimy spotted a big, fat cat on the driveway of an apartment three doors up.  I had absolutely NO time to react, as Vimy took off like a bat out of hell, after that cat.  He pulled SO HARD, and so SUDDENLY, that the leash ripped in two. Vimy is a SPEEDING BULLET when he runs.

What followed was TOTAL BEDLAM!  Despite my screaming his name over and over,Vimy chased that cat all around the house and yard, with me in hot pursuit.  THAT male cat managed to get away by scrambling up a tree, but then a SECOND younger, declawed, female cat appeared. Vimy started tearing after that one,  like the mad dog he had suddenly become! THAT poor cat had a much harder time scrambling up the tree.  I watched in horror as Vimy pulled it down not ONCE, but TWICE, while HIS claws took what I think was fur, and perish the thought, chunks of flesh, out of THAT cat's backside. Vimy, who has never even so much as NIPPED at anyone or anything, had become a killer on the loose!

I am NOT the only one screaming. The landlady, whose in-law suite tenant was THE actual owner of the cats, was yelling at me!  WHY?  The actual owner of the cats, a sweet, little old lady, was hiding behind the screen door, terrified.  I managed to grab a hold of Vimy by his collar as he stopped to sniff around in some hedges.  I was so upset with him as I proceeded to lug him back to Mamacita's place. Another little, older white haired lady, across the lane from the rampage, is telling me (she is also hiding behind the screen door!) to bring Vimy to her to fix his leash.  I keep telling her, as I pull Vimy along, that my mother is just three doors up.  She finally says, "But you are CHOKING your dog."  I was, but by this point,Vimy is lucky I haven't choked him to death!

With Vimy safely locked in the car with the windows down enough, I returned to the scene of the crime to assess the damage.  The landlord has calmed down, realizing Vimy's leash broke. The older, male cat is back safely in the house, probably about to have a major CORONARY!

I ask the landlady to please let my mother know the outcome of Vimy's rampage through her back yard.  As I drive away, I am filled with CHAGRIN, MORTIFICATION and WORRY! The second cat has climbed even FURTHER up the tree, and she is NOT coming down.  What could I say? Call the fire department? That is what they do in the movies, isn't it?  Oh dear....