Rural life...

Today my dad came out to use the truck. It was close to suppertime, so when the kids asked to go along for the ride, I told them no. (Driving around is considered entertainment here in the Panhandle). Dad left, we ate, and a short time later he pulled up to the house again.

"I didn't go alone," he said upon opening the door.

I was a bit confused, did a quick head count and thought for a moment the dog had tagged along, except that our Lab hates cars almost as much as she likes chasing chickens. "Weezo went with you?"

"No. Jewa did."

The cat?

Our cat has not been happy with the recent move. He's sticking around but under protest. Cats are very territorial after all, and don't take kindly to humans moving them to new and unapproved territories. Jewa, being an inherited kitty, has already been through one big move and is quite finished with that sort of thing as he has made very clear very frequently of late. His favorite spot from which to launch guided guilt rockets happens to be in the spare tire well of the truck. I guess he must have been mid-pout about the time dad took off today.

I'm glad he made it back. The poor fella experienced 70 m.p.h. in the underbelly of a truck and then politely asked to ride up front for the return trip.

Although he allowed my dad to pet and comfort him all the way home, he is still not on speaking terms with me. He took one look around, and then disappeared to hunt up a new spot from which to blame me for everything.