Hey, it’s Terrific Tuesday again. How’s everything in your neck of the woods? Come walk with me at noon Wed. at Troutville Park for the AHA Walking Day.Bring a packed lunch!
Now, this is an Epic Cathy story. Grab a glass of sweet tea and put your feet up. Welcome to my life.
Last Thursday I tooled home in my Hi Ho Silver ride to change shoes before I went to the All County Chorus event at Hollins U. I went in and put on my fancy gold shoes. Ah, them golden slippers.
When I went out the back door I heard the plaintiff nickering of one 25- year- old Harry Houdini type of pony named “Gunsmoke.” Looking into the back pasture, I saw Gunny stuck in the fence. In his spry years I used to find him in the front yard when I would come home. He was a master at escape. Today he is arthritic. Me,too.
My dawg boy is a pain when it comes to other animals. He accompanied me down in the field to rescue Gunny. He ran around and around the pony barking his fool head off as I attempted to dislodge Gunny from the fence, one leg at a time. Thank God a pony only has four legs.
Frosty the soon to be 28 year old quarter horse is still reasonably spry so he cantered over to shake me down. He looks for treats in pockets, behinds, crotches and used a series of headbutts to turn me around. Eventually he pushed me as I pushed Gunny.
We will not speak of what I had to say but it looked something like this, ” @%$,$&%%$!! ” as it floated in the wind five miles west of Fincastle. The dog got brave as I attempted to pull Gunny’s last leg out of the fence. With Frosty’s nose on my backside, the dog ran over, cocked his leg on the pony’s and cut loose with a yellow river. Except he missed.
He got my right leg and golden slipper. There are not enough symbols on the keyboard to cover what I said to him.
As soon as Gunny was unstuck he ambled over into the green grass and began to munch. At the end of that sterling moment, Frosty the horse left me to go eat beside of him. Mister Dawg Boy turned his head from side to side trying to look apologetic. Humpf! I had 29 minutes to wash my leg, get the other shoes back on and off to the chorus. When I came out of the house, Dawgie was in my car. Stupid me I had left the car door open. He moved from spot to spot inside the car as I tried to grab him. Finally I said something very mean. No, I yelled. Not a string of symbols but pure old, “Git” at the deepest mean bass of my voice. He hopped right out and trotted down the sidewalk looking for a cat to harass. Unreal.
I zoomed out of the driveway just in time to get behind Farmer Brown for eight solid miles. AAAYYYY! There were a few symbols in that, too. “@##*0+@!”
Believe it or not I made it to Hollins U in 21 minutes, arriving just as the music started rolling since I had to trot on my fat legs to get from the nether world parking lot. Sigh. I have an interesting life. Daddy always said, “The Road to Heck is paved with good intentions.” Indeed.
Daddy died 5 years ago this week. What an opus to his sense of humor. I reckon he gets a laugh out of me down here on Earth. That’s ok, I hope he does. “See you in the funny papers, Pop.”
And, see you next week!