Cougar tales

Where do I begin? As soon as my work visa expired, adventures started happening for real. No more work means all time to play. One big long holiday! Until the money runs out. Then it's back to business. But for now: I'm on this island in Canada, where life is o so different from homeland Belgium. There are mountains and road trips and don't get me started on the wildlife. I have so many wild stories my fingers can't keep up with my brain. I want to tell them and I will tell them all, even if it takes the leftover ink from my pen and biting nails in excitement until there are none left.

First there was the late night visit of Canada's famous killer cat the cougar. I was home alone and woke up to an evil cat sound, followed by seven chickens going crazy, followed by silence. Then the footsteps on the deck. The scratching at the window. I jumped out of bed and ran downstairs. The lights were on. "Anyone here?" My heart was beating in my throat. I looked outside: full moon. That explained everything. "I'm probably just going crazy", I thought while slipping back under the blanket. I left all lights on. Just in case.

The window scratching started again and I grabbed my phone. Like a maniac I called every person in Cumberland I know. No one picked up. It's 2 am and people probably think I'm drunk calling them at this time. So I called everyone again. As the monster cat kept scratching the house, my friend Jen picked up the phone. Thank goodness.

- Are you okay?

- A cougar just killed all the chickens and is now trying to scratch her way into the house.

- Where are you?

- Hiding under a blanket.

The angel Jen got into her clothes and hopped in her car at 2 am to rescue me from the cougar attack. I spent the rest of the night on her couch. Morning sun showed big dark bags under my eyes and memories of adrenaline rushing through my veins. Was it all just a dream? One of those vivid ones, that stick to your skin all day. I drove back to the house and it was not a pretty sight. Feathers all over the garden, one traumatized chicken standing in the middle of it.

The poor chicken went on walkabout the next day. She never returned. I packed up my car and decided it was time for a road trip. The cougar has been back three times, hoping to scare more chickens and travellers.

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