We were headed out to pick my son up from school and the road was dead straight through twenty year pines and scrub trees, two lanes, ditches on either side. I saw what appeared to be a hunting dog trotting toward us down the road but my mind kept saying ‘Cat!’
‘Oh no,’ brain says to mind, ‘That’s a hound. See the way it pimp trots with it’s hips off to the left and that gimp in it’s right shoulder? See it’s really big feet? See…”
‘The cat head?’ said mind.
It’s important to note that I don’t drive a small, quiet car. I drive what I like to refer to as a Maxi Van. It’s a big, diesel, room on wheels and it’s loud. Hunting dogs love it because it might mean going home to food, so it did make sense that a hunting dog would stay in the road and trot right on up to the van. They do it all of the time.
But when the cat got about 10 feet from the hood of my idling van, looked up, startled and jumped the ditch, my mind said, ‘See? Cat,’ and my brain still can’t quite believe it.