Pets: Part 3

We had horses when I was a kid. I was, in all honesty, pretty ambivalent about them. They were very large, kinda dopey, and left gigantic piles of poop in the corral. Incidentally, dried horse manure makes a fantastic projectile.

Yes, we used to throw manure at each other.

I never really cared to ride horses. I always had the feeling that they were more or less ‘going along’ with what I told them to do. They could, if they so chose, take off in a completely random direction while I, as a small boy, could only hope to hang on and eventually reach puberty.

Horses, frankly, can and will occasionally lunge off in a random direction and there’s not a whole hell of a lot you can do about it. Even a 200 pound man isn’t going to be able to redirect a 2000 pound horse if it doesn’t want to cooperate.

My sister, of course, loved horses and insisted that I go riding with her. This resulted in me being bucked off no less than six times over the course of my life and being kicked in the head once. This, coincidentally, was the first time I was ever knocked out.

Now, I was going to blather on about the two sheep that my sister had as FFA projects, but I realized that I’d already gone into depth about that. My adventure with one of them, Houdini, is detailed in the blog entry with the unsurprising title, ‘Houdini.’

Cheers,
-Jason

Pets: Part 1

I have always had pets. I grew up in the country and so we usually had a whole pack of dogs and the odd cat, as well as horses, goats, sheep, and a variety of other furry critters.

As I said, we had both dogs and cats. If pressed, however, I would have to say I’m a dog person. I spent hours romping around the countryside with our dogs. We played fetch, and chased each other, and had the odd game of Battleship, which I generally won, though Muffin could hold her own (I suspect she cheated).

And dogs, frankly, are nature’s sidekicks. They’re the happy Robin to your Batman. The Speedy to your Flash. The Superboy to your Superman. The Aqua . . . did Aquaman have a sidekick? Was there an Aqualad or Kid Squid? If so, wow, talk about losing the hero lottery.

Anyway, dogs look up to you. It’s like having a best friend who’s somewhat dim and poops on the lawn. Dogs are perfectly happy, nay enthusiastic, to do whatever you want to do. All you have to do is feed ‘em, scratch their bellies and keep your shoes out of reach and you’re golden.

Tomorrow: Part 2

Houdini - Part 3

At long last, I cornered Houdini. We were about 20 yards apart, his black eyes staring into mine. His wool was tangled and matted, but he stood proudly, facing his foe. I do not know what I looked like, but I imagine that at that moment, the rocket ship on my chest gleamed.

It was then that I realized something.

I would like to say that it was some fundamental truth of the universe. Something about how sheep and boy were both equals in the eyes of nature and for that one brief moment, Houdini and I were brothers.

No, it was that Houdini probably outweighed my by a good 60-odd pounds and that even if I managed to somehow subdue him, I had no way of getting him back by myself.

Houdini then farted and wandered off. I kid you not.

Had I been older, I would have said something appropriate (like shit), but I just sighed and looked around. I then realized that I was roughly three-miles from where I had started the chase. The ridge I had chased Houdini down paralleled the main road. There were mileage markers at appropriate intervals and I could clearly see the surrounding terrain.

It took me an hour to pick my way back to where I had started. No one was there, of course, as they thought I was lost and were looking for me (I was not lost. I knew exactly where I was). I started walking home and after about fifteen minutes, the pickup roared up and my mom leapt out, to simultaneously hug and chew me out.

I related the story of chasing Houdini, which my dad found hilarious. We went home. My mom made me French Toast and dad called all the neighbors about our missing sheep.

Long story short. A neighbor noticed Houdini, walked up to him with a rope, collared him, led him into a pen, and then called my dad. He was back before noon.

A few months later, Houdini was sold at the county fair and became food. I have mixed feelings about Houdini. At the time, though I understood his desire for freedom, he did manage to be really irritating with the constant escape attempts. Now, looking back, I realize Houdini was a warrior, a woolly Viking if you will. Fate put him at the bottom of the food chain, but did not quench the fire in his heart.

Damn, I need to sell this to Mel Gibson. He could call it WoolHeart (SheepHeart?) and film it completely in baas and bleats.

Cheers,
-Jason

Houdini - Part 2

Houdini was gone. Completely gone. Nowhere on the property gone. My dad ordered all us kids into the back of one of our battered pickups and we took off. There were four kids in the bed, dressed in motley assemblage of work clothes, unbathed, unshaven (in the case of my brothers), and more or less half asleep. A banjo and a shotgun would have completed the picture perfectly.

We drove around the area, occasionally stopping to search a thick patch of scrub, for the better part of an hour. We eventually came to one of the larger meadows not far from our place and were sent out to comb the area.

I wandered into the thicket and half-heartedly looked around. After a few minutes, I happened to notice a flash of white. It was Houdini. I looked around, but no one else was in sight. Houdini was moving quickly through the brush (sheep are fast when they need to be), so I did what any 10-year-old would do. I gave chase.

There have been many great hunts mythologized throughout history. There are stories of courageous hunters who dared the elements, who risked life and limb to track and ensnare their prey. Hunters who knew their quarry could turn at any moment and then they themselves would be the hunted.

Now, I may have been a small boy in rocket ship pajamas chasing a sheep, but this was one such hunt. I chased Houdini through and around bushes, up and down hills, across ravines and boiling lava, through the lairs of snarling wolves and incontinent bears, and through the very earth itself.

Well, obviously not, but it was a hell of a chase.

Houdini - Part 1

This is a true story. It is full of sheep, danger, and rocket ships. Well, actually, there is only one sheep and no actual danger, but there are rocket ships.

When I was 10, my sister (14) was into Future Farmers of America (FFA). She, for reasons unknown, decided to get a sheep to raise for the fair. Since we lived in the country this was not a big deal. A suitable enclosure was constructed, a sheep procured, and life went on as usual.

Except that the sheep kept escaping. It usually only wandered over to where we kept the hay and started eating, so we would just fix the pen and reinter the sheep. This is how the sheep became known as Houdini.

Personally, I had a great deal of respect for Houdini. I assumed he knew that he was eventually going to be eaten and was doing his best to flee to the promised land, where hay was flowed like water and the ewes were both hot and numerous.

However, at roughly dawn one spring morning, I was woken up by my mom who informed me and my two older brothers that Houdini had once again vanished. We had to get up, get dressed, and go out and look for the animal.

I happened to be wearing rocket ship pajamas. The top had numerous small rocket ships all over, with one large one on the chest. It was blue and had flames emitting from it, which were propelling it towards my left armpit. I did not bother to change and just shrugged into some pants and shoes and threw on a down jacket and went outside.

Tomorrow: Part 2