Nice Kitty

I was tackled by a tiger once.  I must stress that it was voluntary for both me and the tiger.  I was recruited to be tiger tackled as part of a fund raising event to support some charity or other during other events at a county fair.  I was coerced by individuals [...]]]>

Nice Kitty

I was tackled by a tiger once.  I must stress that it was voluntary for both me and the tiger.  I was recruited to be tiger tackled as part of a fund raising event to support some charity or other during other events at a county fair.  I was coerced by individuals older than my young self and shamed into the event my various peers.  It was one of several stunts involving tigers, bears, cheetahs, and such; courtesy of a company that trained animals for use as actors in motion pictures.  The tiger, an immense, neutered, Siberian male had a head the size of a beach ball, and breath that could knock a buzzard off an outhouse.  I would love to tell you his name was Larry, because if I had a tiger I would name him Larry.  It would give me a chance to be something I rarely am – laconic.

I’m sure many if not even most of you out there lay awake nights wondering why I choose to spend the vast majority of my time sequestered away from civilization in the company only of Digger the outstanding dog, Clancy the incredible dog, Grizz the irritating cat, and Laura the coveted wife.  What [...]]]>

I’m sure many if not even most of you out there lay awake nights wondering why I choose to spend the vast majority of my time sequestered away from civilization in the company only of Digger the outstanding dog, Clancy the incredible dog, Grizz the irritating cat, and Laura the coveted wife.  What could possibly have been so disconcerting, if not horrible, as to send me into voluntary exile?  You win.  I’ll tell you.

There was a time in my life when I wanted to change the world.  Really.  I didn’t want to carry placards, march in circles, and shout slogans – that’s not my style.  I didn’t aspire to go to India and work among the poor – the food’s too spicy.  The Peace Corps seemed to be a bit extreme – no television.  So, I became a cop.  My motives were pure.  They really were.  I wanted to crush bad guys to their knees and promote racial harmony in a world of difference.  After a few years of bruises and stitches, shootings and knifings, automatic weapons fire – at me, being spat upon and called names, mindless judges, soulless lawyers, and incredibly doltish juries, my lofty ideals were pretty much reduced to “Us against Them” – “Them” being the civilians of the world.  When I realized what I was becoming, I ran away and found myself in the grasp of almost Arkansas, Missouri, one of the true remaining bastions of “duh” on the planet.

Before this epic begins, I must warn you that this is a long bit – if you actually intend to pay attention, perhaps a cup of coffee is in order, or a sandwich…a big one.

“C’mon,” she said, “go with me.  I’m gonna look at their new colt.  Let’s take your bike.”

She was [...]]]>

Before this epic begins, I must warn you that this is a long bit – if you actually intend to pay attention, perhaps a cup of coffee is in order, or a sandwich…a big one.

“C’mon,” she said, “go with me.  I’m gonna look at their new colt.  Let’s take your bike.”

She was Jane Lehr, a veterinarian friend who lived on the outskirts of Barrington Hills, Illinois.  Laura and I were visiting for a few days.  My wife was napping, so Janie and I loaded up on my motorcycle and rode the 10 miles to the Sanford residence so she could check on Sanford’s latest acquisition, a yearling saddlebred.  As we turned off the road onto the gravel lane that wound its way 200 yards to the 7,000 square foot house, Jane asked me to stop.

When I was a young man, I attended official cop school.  Week after week, after week, after week, a select number of young valiants such as I were sequestered from the world, the victims of excessive indoctrination and instruction into the art and function of being police officers.  An [...]]]>

When I was a young man, I attended official cop school.  Week after week, after week, after week, a select number of young valiants such as I were sequestered from the world, the victims of excessive indoctrination and instruction into the art and function of being police officers.  An amazing amount of subjects were covered, from how to deliver a baby (don’t – run away) to the methods for defending oneself against a knife attack (don’t – run away) to public relations (run away…rapidly) to drug abuse (who and where, not how and when) to search and seizure, Miranda, racial or ethnic profiling, crime scene investigation, interviewing and questioning, firearms, radio procedure, traffic stops, domestic violence, polygraph examination, subject restraint and control, high speed driving technique, criminal psychology, choosing the correct doughnut – on and on and on.  The amount of subject matter was amazing.