I was forced to go outside very early this morning. Yeller, our time-share canine, was barking with great enthusiasm about something. He wasn't stopping, so I decided to investigate. When I got to the back door, I saw this scene in the bluish glare of the utility light. Yeller had his head under my wife's car, front paws on the ground, back legs splayed, and hairy tail flagging back and forth. I had no idea what had his attention, but I figured further illumination was in order. Yeller had cornered game.
When hounds go after raccoons and they have one trapped on a branch with no place to go, people call it treeing. Since the object of Yeller's attention was safely under the midpoint of a Toyota, I suppose we can call it car-ing.
I got a flashlight, knelt down, and shone it under the car. Looking back at me were the bright eyes of an odd cat. For one thing, its ears were all wrong. For another, its conformation just seemed off. In fact, if you could compare an animal to a vehicle, this cat would have been a muscle car. It was built kind of close the ground. It had that classic raked look with the front end just a bit lower than the back end. It had an unfortunate glandular condition that must have affected its social life, but it was attractive. It even had racing stripes.
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| Muscle Car |
If you've met me, you'll agree I'm built more for power than speed, but I got up pretty quickly last night. I called Yeller to me and we walked back to the porch together. I suggested that laying down and resuming his guarding of the back door would be a judicious decision and wise use of his time and resources. I went to bed and I dearly hope Yeller did too. It's just too chilly for a tomato juice spa treatment.
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| Muscle Cat |
