The Visitor … Part One

We all stared out the front window at the big white moving van as it pulled away from 11 Autumn Lane and roared down the street.  Maybe I should be more specific, by all of us I mean Rapi, Yehudi and I. 

Mylo had originally been deeply invested in the goings on across the street until the engine on the truck fired up.  The sound of it growling out of the driveway was enough to send the tan labrador mix scrambling across the living room floor and under the coffee table.

“Is it safe to come out now,” the growing puppy asked through chattering teeth?

“All clear, the truck just rounded the corner,” the orange tabby answered in a deep voice accentuated by a Cuban accent.

“Thanks, Rapi,” Mylo said, crawling out from under his hiding spot.

“No problem,” the cat answered.

With that challenge overcome, the four of us returned our attention to the house across the street.  Now, I am not conceited or anything, but I couldn’t help but stop for a moment to admire my reflection in the window.  I liked what I saw and couldn’t help but smile.  Apparently, my reflection was content with the real me because the chocolate lab mix in the window grinned back. 

“Is that him, Cindee?  Is that the new neighbor,” the black and white tuxedo cat asked.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see her hopping up and down and excitedly pointing out the window with her paw.

“I think so Yehudi,” I whispered.

I studied his frame while he admired his new home.  He was tall and muscular.  Even from this distance, I could see his muscles ripple against his red and black plaid shirt.  His long reddish brown hair was wavy, but by no means curly and he wore it pulled back into a ponytail.

Without warning, the man spun around.  His face was covered in a beard that matched the color of his hair and hung halfway down his chest.  His eyes were a golden brown and the brows that hung above them were thick and full. 

From across the street, he locked eyes with me.  For the briefest of moments, I swear I could feel him poking around inside my brain.

“Duck,” Rapi shouted and fell to the floor while Yehudi and I followed suit.


The tan puppy had edged closer to the window and was exploring all the yards in our neighborhood in search of a winged creature.

“For the love of everything holy,” the big orange cat grumbled.

I did the only thing I could do.  I reached up, grabbed Mylo’s collar between my teeth, and pulled him down to safety.

Mylo was the first one brave enough to poke his head up and glance out the window.  The neighbor did not shoot a death ray from his eyes and disintegrate the puppy.  No, Mylo was perfectly fine.

Convinced it was safe, the rest of us slowly rose to our paws so that we could spy on our neighbor once more. 

“Is that … Is that …” Mylo stuttered.

“It’s Edgar,” Rapi exclaimed.

I did a double-take.  It was Edgar, the Moody Sisters’ black cat.

“I have never seen him out in daylight before.”

The orange cat’s voice trembled slightly, and his stare intensified.  It was indeed unusual to see the inky black feline out this time of day and he was never this far from home either. 

“Are the Sisters with him?”

“I don’t see them Rapi,” the puppy answered.

“Me either,” I added.

“Who are these Sisters we are looking for?” the tuxedo cat asked.

Rapi and turned to look at each other, only to discover we both wore identical puzzled expressions. 

“She doesn’t get out much remember,” Mylo whispered while nodding his head in Yehudi’s direction.

“True,” the orange cat said, his face looking a little sheepish.

“Do you want to tell her or shall I,” the tabby asked.

“You should, by all means,” I answered, unable to contain a rising giggle.

“Okay,” he said resolutely, then took a seat on the windowsill to make himself comfortable.

“Legend says, that Rose and Lilly Moody are direct descendants of Lilith, the First Witch!”

“Wait, wait, wait!  You are trying to tell me that those two sweet old ladies that own the candle shop on Main Street are witches?”

Yehudi’s brow had furrowed, and a deep frown had begun to form on her face, not to mention that her voice was filled with skepticism.

“They eat dog soup and cat stew,” Rapi countered, his usually strong Latino voice cracked under the strain.

“It’s true,” I added for emphasis.

“Edgar, that black cat out there, he is their familiar!”

“It’s true,” I barked even louder this time.

“I think you guys are off your rocker,” the cat huffed.

The conversation was brought to a screeching halt by a loud crash coming from outside.

In front of our very eyes, the new neighbor picked up a garbage can and held it over his head.  With nary a word said, but a deep growl instead, he hurled the large blue container at the cat.

Edgar gracefully danced out of the way, then hissed at the man.  Undeterred he reached for the recycling container and tossed it.  Once again, the black cat evaded the object, only this time he leaped forward and swiped at the neighbor’s leg.

Our newest resident was nimble enough to sidestep the attack and somehow manage to swing his leg out and just barely connect with Edgar’s tail, further infuriating the feline.

“OMG, he must not like cats,” I said, taking in the confrontation.

“Maybe he is just allergic,” Yehudi said, injecting her two cents into the conversation.

We fell silent and watched as Edgar backed the neighbor up foot by foot until at last, he lunged at the cat with one final kick then dashed inside the door, slamming it shut behind him.

We looked on as Edgar stalked the house looking for someway … anyway … that he could get into the house and at the neighbor.  Once he was confident there was no access point he turned and began to leave.  At the end of the driveway, he stopped and glared across the street into our window.  With a grimace that looked like it was born in hell itself, he spat out a vile hiss in our direction.

“Time to go,” Rapi screamed on his way across the room and under the sofa.

“That sounds like a good idea,” Yehudi squeaked and followed in the orange cat’s wake.

“Uh … I am gonna see what Mommy is doing,” the puppy mumbled then slunk away.

Curious, I turned one more time to glance out the window.  Sitting on our window ledge staring at me through the glass was Edgar, his lips curled into a sneer and fangs exposed.  With a final hiss and a swipe at the glass, he turned and ran.

I on the other hand let out a yelp, then blacked out …

… to be continued!

Join us on Halloween to read the rest of Cindee and the Gang’s adventure with their new neighbor as well as some of their old friends too!

In the meantime, if you would like to learn more about Edgar and the Moody Sisters you can read about the first time the Gang met them by clicking on the image of Edgar below!


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About THe Author

H. Scott Moore, a native of Western New York State, grew up enjoying the rhythm of life in the changing seasons. One day, he became intrigued by his dog, Cindee, and what she might be thinking and feeling.

Inspired, he set out to create a world that combines his passion for animals and his curiosity about the natural and supernatural worlds. The result is a space where we can travel with Cindee and her friends and enjoy their adventures too!

When he is not working or creating, H. Scott likes to spend his time on the trails with Cindee, Mylo, and his wife Simone.


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