Saturday morning presented a muffled landscape of fog. It was the kind of fog that settles in for the long haul, just begging me to to settle in on the porch with my coffee and Rainy the Cat (Mr. Hans, first-cat-in-command, is currently sequestered indoors due to recent surgery) I puzzled out what I might do while these wads of cotton pressed down around us. Cat and I, what can we do? I had an idea. Let’s go Steer Staring. It’s a great game and the steer are always eager to participate. Head to head. Eyeball to eyeball.
The game goes like this; I stand really still and stare at them. They stand really still and stare at me. The first one who turns tail and runs loses. Cats are really good at this game, I lose all the time to Gray Ghost. Not only does she stare me down to the bare bone, she adds an iciness to her stare. I can’t compete.
Anyway, this game kills a lot of time. In fact, it’s a big time waste when I should be doing more productive things. Like laundry. Dishes. Vacuuming. Things that are all so very productive, but let’s go to the steer. Game on. Contestant number one emerges stealth-like from the mist. Good strategy using the cover of the fog as an intimidating factor. I almost didn’t see him coming:
With barely a nod, he pulls in more resources. Good move. More eyeballs to wear me down. I’m still standing strong at this point. But my knees are quivering. The stakes are high. (ha, get it? Stakes? Steer? Yeah, sorry.)
He’s playing rough now. He somehow pulled in more hoofs from the left flank. I didn’t see it coming. I’m almost done in. Steer from the right, steer from the left, more in the back if needed. My cat took off. Thanks cat. I’ve got it. Don’t worry about me and the millions of eyeballs staring me down.
Just when I thought all was lost, this happened:
They took off! I win! I swear I didn’t flinch. Back into the mist they go. And you know what? Me too. Back into the mist and into the house. My winnings are modest. I get a pickle. Yay pickle! But that’s it. Because I know those steer. They are cooking something up to recoup their loss. I still haven’t forgotten when I got my hand stuck in the steer shed and they just stood there and laughed at me. So my win is a quiet and somber one. Respect the steer.
Meanwhile, Mr. Hans is getting lots of love after his surgery. Hang in there little guy, we’ll get that cone off soon: