The following is a former winner of the Amazing but Incredibly True Story Contest.
Copyright Jenny Gable, 1997
When I was about 13, one quiet summer day I was in a playhouse in my yard playing music on a recorder. The sky was overcast but still and the air was a comfortable temperature without any wind. I had a small wire music stand, a song book, and my instrument. One of family cats was sleeping in the other corner of the playhouse.
The playhouse was basically a small room on stilts, similar to the build of houses along a riverside that often floods. The lower section was completely open, and the upper part had a wall and slanted roof coming up from the west, with the other three sides open. This was enough to break the wind and rain, but left it otherwise open.
The cat was a beautiful brown, white, and black mixture, unlike any other cats on the local farms. She had wandered in to our house about six months earlier, starved and very shy. As usual, we "adopted" her by feeding her and gradually trying to gain her confidence. However, unlike the multitudes of other cats we adopted over the years, this one didn't trust much even after many months of nurturing. I gave her extra attention and care, and she trusted me more than the other family members. She was still very shy, but seemed to enjoy my presence as long as I didn't try to pet her.
On this particular day while I was playing music, she decided to jump up into the playhouse and listen. I found it somewhat odd (most cats don't like my playing), but I love cats and was happy for her company. After a few minutes she fell asleep. I continued to play, and became very focused on the music, to the exclusion of all else.
Suddenly, the cat startled and woke up, crouched as if cowering or ready to pounce, then looked terrified and jumped out of the playhouse as fast as she could. (Note that due to the wall on the west side, there is no way she could have seen anything coming from that direction, which is the direction she was facing.) She ran faster than I'd ever seen her, straight toward the house. At the same time, I heard a voice in my head screaming, "Get out!!! Get out of there!!!!!"
Without questioning the voice, I grabbed my music and stand in my free hand and leaped out of the playhouse, running toward the house as fast as I could. The distance to the house was about 30-40 feet, around a slight curve. In the few seconds it took for me to run that far, I was blown at least 10 feet sideways by very strong wind.
I got through the garage door and slammed it behind me, and then turned to look outside to find out what had happened. The wind had been completely dead the last time I had been aware of it, and my music would have blown away in even a slight breeze, so I was bewildered about being blown sideways. To my great shock, I saw the playhouse blown 30 feet east and smashed against the hillside. My knees began to shake so badly I could hardly walk. After explaining to my parents what had happened, I went back outside to look at things in detail.
The playhouse had been turned over once, smashed against the ground, picked up and turned over again, and then smashed against the hillside. The wind had calmed down almost immediately after smashing the playhouse, and only a gentle rain followed later that day. Nothing else was damaged. If I had been inside, I could not have survived the crushing. If the cat had not startled me into awareness, I may have been too preoccupied to react quickly to the voice I heard. The cat died of natural causes within a month later.
I believe the cat was sent by my guardian angel, whose voice I heard then warning me to get out, and whose voice I have heard similarly on other occasions. I trusted the cat's instincts more than my own because of my love for and experience with cats, and that trust is what woke me up enough to be able to react quickly. Just as I unquestioningly followed what the voice told me, I unquestioningly believe that an angel saved my life.
To contact the author, write to Jenny Gable.
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