Just Another...Just Another Day...
Mood:  not sure
Now Playing: Ottmar Liebert
Lately, I have been feeding a little stray (big suprise-not!)…an orange tabby kitten upon whom I have bestowed the moniker of ‘Elvis’. Why? No idea—it just fits for some strange reason. Not like he’s slumped over in a drug overdose on a toilet at Graceland or anything…it’s just because he’s a little rockstar personality-wise.

For a while I thought he was schizophrenic. One minute he would cry to me and rub all over me and then the next, he would hiss and run. Turns out, I was petting Elvis one day when he hissed and I looked and realized there were two orange tabbies—I am figuring the other is his less friendly sibling slash evil twin. I know, not very bright of me…

Anywho Elvis waits for me daily at 5am for food. Although food really is not his primary goal—attention/affection is. He loves petting and baby talk, AKA the sugar that I provide. He will rub on Mr. Big (my horse) going in and out of his legs all the while talking to me as I feed Big.

I have become pretty attached to the little man but I am full up at my house as far as babies. It has become my quest to find him a ‘forever’ home as he deserves it.

The other morning, he and I had just finished our daily love fest and I had gimped my way back to the house to take a shower.

I was preparing to get into the shower (AKA totally butt nekked) when I decided to look back out the window at Elvis happily munching away on kibble. What I saw made me do a double take. Elvis was plumped up to the size of a large puffer fish and was swaying, back arched, on his toes. That’s when I realized that there was a dog nearby threatening Elvis. The dog looked strange for some reason. I looked longer and realized it wasn't a dog--it was a fricking coyote.

For those of you who do not live near rural/urban city park areas, coyotes tend to make meals of household pets. Seeing the coyote totally freaked me out. No way was some mother fricking coyote going to eat Elvis before I found him a loving home!

I ran (as best I could in my ankle brace) to the kitchen where I threw open the door, only to realize I was naked. SHIT!!!! I stumped back to my bedroom (in my best Captain Ahab impression) to grab a shirt. I threw the shirt on and limped back to the kitchen to head outside.

As I ‘ran’ outside, I was going to grab a handful of rocks, but figured if the coyote was rabid, I was fucked. So I looked around the back patio and my eyes landed on a big red hammer I had left on the porch. I grabbed it.

It felt as if it had been forever, but in fact it had only been a few minutes. I ran like Quasimodo towards the coyote wearing only a Hawaiian print shirt that barely covered my twipee, my garden clogs (that caused the ankle blow out in the first place) all the while swinging a large red hammer. I have to admit, I must have looked like a psychotic nutbag!

Apparently, that did the trick as I scared the shit out of the coyote, which took off leaving little Elvis stressed out but physically unharmed.

In the aftermath, all I could think was “Fuck, I hope my neighbors didn’t see this!” I probably should have been more worried that no one taped the occurance for Japanese television consumption...