That was it for me. Life was just getting too scary. I took another shower with my clothes on. This time it hurt, because I had scrapes and bruises all over my body from my battle, if I could call it that, with the dritch. I ached all over. And I was running out of clean clothes.
Why didn’t Stumpy kill me? The thing was as strong as a grizzly bear. Whacking it with the hoe hadn’t made so much as a dent. If it was hungry, having eaten Pips and made a grab for Rocky, for sure it would have found me delicious. I pulled my first set of clothes back out of the dryer, the dark stains left by cat blood hardly noticeable, and threw in the outfit that had just taken a beating in Melanie’s yard. Screw this. I was getting nowhere and doing nobody any good. Maybe I had just saved Rocky from getting e
