A Skipper Cat-tastrophe

Jan reminded me that I have not told the Skipper story that I promised a week or so ago. It's not a pretty story, but one that should be told I suppos

One afternoon, I hooked up the dogs and took them for a walk in the neighborhood. This was before the Great Heatwave of 2012 struck and we could still breathe out there. My furry charges were doing great, behaving well and keeping up a good pace with only an occasional delay for a bit of sniffing, piddling, and pooping.

We had made it halfway around the block to the wooded vacant lot at the corner of Stewart and Castlewood when all that changed. There at the edge of the woods, grooming himself with total abandon, was a juicy neighborhood cat. The sight was more than Skipper Lou Blue could endure with calm. Like magic, he was out of his harness, off his leash, chasing said kitty down the hill and into the woods.

I immediately let Sophie off her leash (my good dog Sophie does not run away), and into the woods we went to catch our wayward friend. Now these are dense woods with trees, bushes, vines, and all kinds of undergrowth. Which might be a good thing. If it had been clear sailing, I might have killed myself. As it was, I had plenty of things to grab on my way down the hill. I stumbled and flailed and scratched, and scraped myself, but I kept to my feet. Almost to the end.

As I hustled through the woods to try and catch my runaway pooch, grasping at tree limbs, bushes, and bird nests, I finally felt my balance going. I can only imagine the picture I must have presented as I twirled and pirouetted, trying to regain my footing and keep from falling. But in the end, all effort was fruitless. I went headfirst to the ground and skiddered along, finally coming to a stop with my head completely buried in dead leaves.

Spluttering, and brushing myself off, trying to decide how many bones I had broken, I sat up to find that I had two dogs checking out my condition as well. There was Sophie, calmly looking at me as if to ask, "Why do you do these things?" And on my other side was little ol' Skipper, panting and frisking about. The cat was chased; long live the cat.

No bones were broken and somehow I had managed to hold onto Skip's leash with his harness attached. But the boy was naked. Somewhere in the woods, he had dispensed with his collar too. I grabbed him and sat there a long time, telling him what all horrible things I was going to do to him as soon as I could breathe again. He believed not a word of it, curled up in my lap until I could again get to my feet and carry the doggies hom

We have not been walking since. Right after this adventure, the heat hit; so I think if I should have to make one of those Skipper retrievals in this weather, I would not survive. Andy volunteered to look for the collar, and found it. The leash and harness that he left in the woods in front of our house on his previous cat chase remains in those wood

Now, here are some photos from the outside of The Yellow House. We're ready for Independence Day--and some cool weather.