Scat!

Cats were part of our lives.  Cats ate mice and rats that ate Daddy's seed peanuts.  Cats were outdoor animals (as were dogs) and were not allowed indoors.  Never.  Ever.  (After Mother died Daddy told me that she was allergic to cats.  NOW I understand one of the reasons we never had cats indoors.)

In this photo, Mother is bending over Daddy's desk.  Daddy would sit at this desk when he was doing his farm bookkeeping and other paper work.  The doorway to the left was the end of a long hall. At the other end of the hall was the kitchen and kitchen door.  It was a straight shot from the open door to the desk.

This is the same doorway, Daddy standing by his desk.

The floor of the hall was linoleum tiles, the kind we had to wax often.  We'd spend an entire day, taking the old wax off and waxing the floor again.  The fun came when the floor was freshly waxed and it had dried.

Every so often a cat would decide to come in the kitchen door.  It was a straight shot down the hall. The hall was a bit darker than the rest of what it could see and it would take off down the hall to what appeared to be safety.  On rare occasions, Daddy would be doing bookwork at the desk when a cat took a notion to come indoors, a all-out run down the hall.

We'd hear the cat's claws on the tile and would look up, waiting, a grin already on our faces. The biggest grin was on Daddy's face as he waited for the right moment.  Sure enough, when the cat was just a few feet from Daddy, running as fast as it could, Daddy would suddenly throw out both legs and arms and yell, "SCAT"!  The poor cat would try to stop and run the other way, scared out of it's wits.  The waxed floor didn't offer much grip for it's claws and it would literally be going full speed, trying to turn around, yet not be moving an inch in either direction.  

It took a while for THAT cat to try it again.