Peeking behind the curtain of Monday evening's cougar showdown
reveals the less-impressive reality.
The first weapon I threatened the lion with:
(a.k.a. yellow stick)
Which explains the lion snort-of-laughter I'm pretty sure I heard.
It stared at me agog, in frozen amazement at my bizarre plan.
("Dude. I'm a MOUNTAIN LION. Not a dust bunny.")
Thus my (probably wise) retreat for Cougar Scare Part II.
Sprinting upstairs, I fling away the crap between me and Ol' Bessie,
(mostly my old park ranger clothes. note: sexy indoor-outdoor carpeting that came w/the house... rawr!)
grab my I-don't-know-if-it-works-and-totally-not-loaded shotgun,
(a.k.a. brown stick)
slip on my Cougar Intimidation Foot Technology,
(husband's old penny loafers)
leap outside, and re-boot Cougar-Insulting Profanity Stream.
Once the C.I.P.S., my bluff charges, and brown stick jabs
convince this lion it's way too cool to be seen with me,
I return to my home.
And note that I'm
my heart is pounding like I've just run a 4 minute mile.
I can't believe I saw that
I can't believe I did that
I can't believe it worked
And later I vow never to do that again. =)
Mostly, now, I feel so, so lucky to have seen
such an amazing animal, so clearly,
so closely, and with no harm done all 'round.
Life: it's an adventure, baby!