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Sorry, I couldn’t help myself...

SunkenCiv always has the most beautiful photos of distant galaxies and comets and stuff. The other night, he posted this photo of a planet that was just stunning.

I thought that maybe I should go outside and look at all the stars I was missing. I walked out the back door and started across the back yard looking up to see what was in the sky.

This is kind of dangerous as I have four dogs and you should watch where you step in the back yard because if you don’t you might step in dog crap and drag it into the house where your wife will scream at you like you just brought a grenade or something into the house.

I was looking up at the night sky when I heard something in front of me. It was a mountain lion. Now, I don’t know how big he was, but his fangs were about five feet long. I knew I was a goner. Then, I remembered that I had left the back door open and my four furry fighters were waiting in the house.

I whistled for my dogs. They came charging out the back door like canine cavalry, barking and howling and scratching to get traction. They were halfway across the back yard when they saw the mountain lion. They put on the brakes and stopped like they had those fancy ceramic Porsche brakes that will stop you from 60mph in 106 feet. At least that’s what John Davis says they’ll do and he’s been on Motorweek for a few years, so I figure he should know.

The oldest dog looked at the mountain lion and then he looked at me and said, “We thought you had a squirrel or something. You got that big rascal all to yourself!” Back the dogs ran into the house leaving me to feel like Custer at the Little Big Horn watching Major Reno “charge” back up the hill. I even called the oldest dog a dirty chicken and he said he’d sooner try to lay an egg than fight a full-grown mountain lion. They made it inside and shut the door and stood there looking out the glass door.

The mountain lion snarled and got my attention again. I remembered the old saying about music soothing the savage beast, so I started to serenade him. The only song I could think of was MUSKRAT LOVE by the Captain and Tennille. “Muskrat Suzie and Muskrat Sam do the jitterbug down in muskrat land...”.

Well, it turns out the mountain lion was a Rolling Stones fan and all I had done with my soft rock was tick him off. He crouched to pounce. I am not without my own defensive skills. I’ve had a few years of martial arts training. I got into my tiger stance and prepared to do battle. The mountain lion looked at me....rolled over on his back.....and started laughing. I’d never seen a mountain lion laugh before. I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen any big cat laugh, but there he was, four paws up in the air laughing his head off.

I know when to take advantage of a break, so I skedaddled to the back door. The chicken dogs had locked it. The little looked at me and said, “ if you can hang in there another five seconds, I’ll win the bet!” The flea bags were betting on how long I would last with the mountain lion. I made it to the back door of the garage while old Charlie The Lonesome Cougar was laughing himself silly.

Oh, you should have seen my four loyal dogs when I walked up behind them. They were all looking at the floor and they were all real sorry about leaving me out there to fight a mountain lion by myself. I asked them who won the bet. They said my wife had come the closest. She had bet “The big chicken will drop to the ground in a dead faint”.

As punishment for the dogs, I sing MUSKRAT LOVE over and over again to them. They have sensitive ears so they can hear me from all over the house. They caught the mountain lion a week later in the garden department at Shopko. I guess he was looking for some gloves or something.

My wife now must go out the back door before me at night. I may be a “big chicken” but I’ll be the first chicken through that back door. Anyway, if you see a beautiful planet photo from SunkenCiv, just thank him and don’t go outside at night to look.

Thank you. Mrs. Frederickson, my sixth grade English teacher thanks you. I remember those tortured hours at the blackboard trying to diagram sentences. Jeanie could always do them properly. “This is a predicate nominative.” Oh, how I longed to know what a predicate nominative was. I’m sure that kept me out of Yale. That and my criminal record. And paragraphs! When should you start a new paragraph? A new thought? A new subject? A new car? I just threw that last one in. I blame my public school education. I blame bullying. I blame global warming. Jeanie turned out to be quite beautiful as well as knowing what a predicate nominative was. I’d like to tell you that Jeanie and I were married and lived happily ever after, but she married a lawyer. I guess he knew what a predicate nominative was. Me? I hold the record at Free Republic for being called a fool. Eh.....it’s a record.