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Case: The Monroe County Tomcat Debacle, Part II

Striped brown cat interrogative looks out of the frame closeup on white background / Getty Images
Striped brown cat interrogative looks out of the frame closeup on white background / Getty Images Striped brown cat interrogative looks out of the frame closeup on white background / Getty Images

By Larry Case 8 min read

Editor’s note: Part I of “The Monroe County Tomcat Debacle” was published in the Times Free Press on March 14. This is a work of fiction; any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental

I took off through the woods following Megan and soon saw this would be no easy task.

For just a little snip of a girl, she could really move, and it seemed like she floated over some of the downed logs and never really hit the ground after jumping over them. Her pace gave you the impression she was kind of gliding just above the leaves on the ground, and she didn’t seem to make any noise. I looked back for Allen and Jimmy, but they were falling farther behind. I gave them a shoulder-shrug, hands-in-the-air gesture as if to say, “What else can we do but follow her?” and tried to keep up.

photo Contributed photo / Larry Case

This whole deal had started a few weeks before when Megan had shocked the county by announcing she wanted to put her big yellow tomcat, Earl, in the Monroe County Squirrel Dog Contest. This contest has been going on for at least 40 years that I know of, and you have to understand it is no small thing to many in this little rural county. Squirrel dog owners come from miles around to participate, the winner gets his name and his dog’s name engraved on the huge winner’s cup and, of course, they get bragging rights for the next twelve months. The contest always draws a big crowd with lots of food and exhibits, and no local politician would dare miss it.

As we moved deeper into the woods, the strange, squalling cry became louder, and I could only assume it was coming from Earl the tomcat. Out of breath, I came out in a little clearing, and what I saw will not soon be forgotten. Earl was about 20 feet up the trunk of a white oak tree, and his front paws were extended in front of him, claws holding him in place. He was looking up the tree, frozen in place, and his mouth was half-open in a snarling cat grin. Earl was squalling and screeching as he kept his nose pointed to heaven and never looked down.