Before cell phones
By late summer of 1981, I had enough money to buy something I’d always wanted: a brand-new Eureka lightweight four-person tent (on end-of-season sale) to replace both the heavy, leaky, smelly old canvas tent our family had when I was in high school and the dilapidated camper I was given when my father died. I could hardly wait to try it out!
Nights were already getting cold; nevertheless, I decided to set it up in the backyard that night and camp out with my daughter.
By 8:00 PM, my daughter was sound asleep in her own child’s sleeping bag, but I lay awake for another hour or more, listening to the sound of a gentle rain that had begun a few minutes earlier.
It was a bit cold to enjoy sleeping outside, but after sipping the small glass of Templeton Rye I’d brought with me and snuggling deep into my bag, I also fell asleep.
I was awakened by the terrifying sound of someone stealthily entering our tent. Click… click… click… the teeth of the tent door zipper were carefully… quietly… slowly… being parted!
Why had I been so stupid as to sleep outside, totally unprotected and helpless — with my innocent daughter?! We were absolutely at the mercy of whoever was entering.
I don’t know what good I thought pretending to still be asleep would do, but he was so close I knew it wouldn’t take two seconds for him to silence me permanently, if I screamed.
I lay in total terror as I felt the sleeping bag near my foot move. Please don’t hurt my daughter! I silently begged.
He was near my head. I could sense it. But I was so paralyzed with dread, I did not open my eyes. There was nothing I could do, anyway. I had buried my arms deep into the bag for warmth and could not possibly free them quickly enough to scratch him.
I just waited for the worst, accepting whatever was to be, hoping he did not hurt my daughter after he did whatever he intended to do to me.
He licked my face!
Then my beloved Freddie, cold and wet from the rain, crawled deep into my sleeping bag and purred softly beside me. He might have thought I was also purring; I was shaking so badly.
Author’s Note: This is a true story, and that’s the tent I wrote about.… but the photo composite was from pictures we took on a camping trip with friends in the mid-1980s.