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I'm Just a Guy
It must be reigning dogs and cats


By Tracy Farr
Editor, The Daily Spittoon
         

Just to let you know – I’m fine, but I'm a little shaken up.

It all started last Saturday when I had the urge to get myself fit again, eat a little bit better and exercise a lifetime of eating Double Stuffed Oreo Cookies away from my waist. With that in mind, I got up at 5 a.m. (I know that's obscenely early, but you have no idea how many of those cookies I’ve eaten) for a nice little walk around the block.

The first part of my walk was wonderful – the air was cool, the sky clear enough to see a gazillion stars, and my heart was jumping up and down like a little puppy finally glad to be let out of the house to pee. I just knew this would be the start of something grand – that is until a neighborhood dog decided he was the King of the Road and I needed to pay a toll for using it.

Do you remember the Stephen King book (and movie) "Cujo"?  Big dog? Sharp teeth? Bad breath? Half-eaten bodies all over the place? The whole book, movie and bad reviews flashed before my eyes in a matter of seconds (go figure, some people see their lives flash by – I see visions of a nasty dog that thinks I’m a rabbit and it’s time for breakfast).

The dog wasn’t just barking at me – he was growling and inching closer with every move that I made. I tried to reach down and grab a stone, a stick, anything, but every time I turned my head away from the dog, he came even closer and growled even louder.

I prayed for a pistol, but God doesn't deal in firearms.

The only thing I could think of was to pull out my cell phone, call my wife and tell her I was soon going to be in need of an ambulance – and it would be best to call for one sooner rather than later.

I flipped open my phone, all the buttons lit up, and lo and behold the dog jumped back and didn’t utter another peep. When I closed the phone, he started growling again. I flipped the phone open, he stopped – and eventually he walked off. (Just in case you’re wondering, I have the Alltel Nation-to-Nation Unlimited Dog Repellant Plan. It costs me a fortune, but you never know when it will come in handy.)

I made it home okay – all limbs still attached – and collapsed on the couch vowing never to eat right, trim down or exercise again for as long as I live.

And then I heard a scratching at the door.

I got up, opened the front door, and standing before me was a cat bearing gifts of frog, bird and headless rat. He looked up to me as if to say, "Welcome to my humble home. I bring gifts for your snacking pleasure. It's not much, but it's all I have."

I looked down on the cat and said, "Thank you for your kindness and for not wanting to tear off my leg like a dog – but I must decline your offer. I'm on a strict diet and my doctor frowns upon my consumption of bloated frog, de-feathered bird and entrails of rat. A fresh bagel would be nice, but a half-eaten robin will wreak havoc with my cholesterol count."

The cat, pretending not to understand my English (like all cats do), just looked at me, probably wondering why I would turn down such a succulent spread of morning morsels.

Since there is no use in reasoning with a cat, I didn't.

Instead, I spoke to the cat about privacy, floods and politics; income tax, Dancing with the Stars, and frozen pizza; global warming, space exploration and The Three Stooges. I even spent a considerable amount of time on calculus and trigonometry, but I think he knew I had no idea what I was talking about. He raised his nose, turned away and disappeared. The next day all his little gifts were gone, and the cat stayed as far away from me as he could.

And what important lessons did I learn from both of these encounters? First, never leave home without a cell phone – you never know when an attacking foe will “see the light” and just move on along. And second, never try to bluff your way through calculus or trig with a cat. Why? Because they are cats, and they know the difference.

 
           

The Daily Spittoon is an independently owned rural newspaper.
© 2006-08 The Daily Spittoon, Stinky Creek, Texas.
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