Milk Shake is one of the sweetest cats I've ever adopted. He purrs loudly when he snuggles in my lap and his black and white coat is always shiny. But sometimes I wonder if Milk Shake remembers his life before I adopted him. Does he remember that dark and stormy night? Will I ever forget it?
The day I adopted Milk Shake began at Bucks and Spurs Guest Ranch, a dude ranch near Springfield, in southwest Missouri. Killing time as the cowboys saddled our horses, I tried to play with the farm cats that occupied the barn. Milk Shake was the only one who would cuddle. When the horses were saddled, I left Milk Shake, who had stretched out in my arms and was purring loudly, on the back porch as we set out on our trail ride.
We were out riding near an old Civil War site when the sunny skies of the Bucks and Spurs Guest Ranch turned dark and stormy. Thunder rumbled in the distance as we gazed upon sunken grave sites barely visible in the snarled underbrush. My horse skittered when Milk Shake suddenly appeared near the only grave marked with a tombstone and let out a mournful meow.
It's been said that animals often display a sixth sense about situations, especially cats. That could be why the Egyptians held them in such high regard, and even deemed them to be deity.
"What is it kitty," I queried. "There's something about this place, this spot, isn't there?
Milk Shake started to “meow” a response when suddenly in the trees, the leaves rustled and a horse sneezed, and in the shrubbery appeared a horse carrying on its back a tired and wounded little drummer boy, ragged and shoeless. Slumped over his weary horse, the little boy may have been sleeping or he may have been dead. The old bony horse stopped right in front of that lone grave marked with a tombstone.
Again, Milk Shake let out a mournful meow.
Milk Shake's fur stood on end as he coughed up a furball and thought, "I don't remember eating that.
"The drummer's eyes opened slowly as he struggled to sit upright in the saddle. But his horse had other plans as it lay down near the grave and passed away there on the spot. He had accomplished his mission, to return the boy back to familiar grounds.
"Water... water, please..." the lad hoarsely spoke. Trying to hit a note on the drum, his fatigue cause him to miss and strike the deceased pony he sat upon.
"There, there, no need to beat a dead horse so to speak," said Roxanne, "I'll give you some of my water. It's charcoal filtered through reverse osmosis."
Rox tended to give out too much information when she was nervous or afraid. And this time she was in no shape to be riding a horse. As she leaned over to give the little drummer boy a drink, Roxanne fell off her horse and into the open grave.
Roxanne gagged at the stench of the grave. The odor wasn't that of death as one would expect. It was obvious Milk Shake and his catty friends had been using the soft dirt for a singles polka bar, which is really slang for a catnip hubble-bubble den, which is slang for Tom and Jerry's Ozark Turtle surprise.
And what a surprise it was, especially when Roxanne realized there was a tunnel leading off at an angle, deeper into the ground! She gave a shriek of surprise, but quickly quelled it, as she grabbed hold of the quirt that had dropped from her grasp when she fell. Gingerly she inched toward the tunnel and wondered why she felt the need to explore further when she was obviously getting a catnip contact high right where she was. Could it be that while no one was paying attention to Milk Shake, the sweet kitty moseyed back to the barn at Bucks and Spurs ranch where he planned to hide in the hay loft ready to pounce when Roxanne emerged from the tunnel that began inside the grave and ended in the edge of tack and saddle room.
That was where Milk Shake made his move and took out a tiny ray gun from beneath his fur, because we all know that cats are little aliens out to accomplish world domination! Milk Shake used one of his sharp claws to set the ray gun's power to "KILL" and waited for the right moment, the tip of his tail twitching in anticipation.The wounded drummer boy, who had crept through the tunnel behind Roxanne, had his own plans. Turns out he wasn't as helpless as he appeared.
"Rat-a-tat-tat," he tapped on the drum that hung by his side.
"RAT-A-TAT-TAT," he tapped louder.
"All right, All right! I hear you." said Roxanne.
Her loud nasal voice caused Milk Shake to jump and shoot the hound dog that had come sniffing into the barn to see what all the ruckus was about.
Milk Shake hissed as the poor dog disappeared in a puff of green smoke, which caused the wounded drummer boy to spin around wildly, looking for his dog. He spied Milk Shake beside a quickly vanishing mist of green, licking himself, as cats do, and cringed - because not only was he not a cat person, he was desperately allergic.
The creepy wounded drummer boy sneezed, frightening Milk Shake who leapt sideways, his tail straight up in the air and ears laid back. As he crashed to the horse manure-covered ground beneath the hayloft, he discovered the myth about cats always landing on their feet wasn't true. He landed, instead on his head, right on top of the wounded drummer boy's drum.
The End!
Authors: Susan Wade, Patsy Bell Hobson, Phillip Secca, RoseMarie Combrinck Coetzee and Terry Dubbs
The day I adopted Milk Shake began at Bucks and Spurs Guest Ranch, a dude ranch near Springfield, in southwest Missouri. Killing time as the cowboys saddled our horses, I tried to play with the farm cats that occupied the barn. Milk Shake was the only one who would cuddle. When the horses were saddled, I left Milk Shake, who had stretched out in my arms and was purring loudly, on the back porch as we set out on our trail ride.
We were out riding near an old Civil War site when the sunny skies of the Bucks and Spurs Guest Ranch turned dark and stormy. Thunder rumbled in the distance as we gazed upon sunken grave sites barely visible in the snarled underbrush. My horse skittered when Milk Shake suddenly appeared near the only grave marked with a tombstone and let out a mournful meow. It's been said that animals often display a sixth sense about situations, especially cats. That could be why the Egyptians held them in such high regard, and even deemed them to be deity.
"What is it kitty," I queried. "There's something about this place, this spot, isn't there?
Milk Shake started to “meow” a response when suddenly in the trees, the leaves rustled and a horse sneezed, and in the shrubbery appeared a horse carrying on its back a tired and wounded little drummer boy, ragged and shoeless. Slumped over his weary horse, the little boy may have been sleeping or he may have been dead. The old bony horse stopped right in front of that lone grave marked with a tombstone.Again, Milk Shake let out a mournful meow.
Milk Shake's fur stood on end as he coughed up a furball and thought, "I don't remember eating that.
"The drummer's eyes opened slowly as he struggled to sit upright in the saddle. But his horse had other plans as it lay down near the grave and passed away there on the spot. He had accomplished his mission, to return the boy back to familiar grounds.
"Water... water, please..." the lad hoarsely spoke. Trying to hit a note on the drum, his fatigue cause him to miss and strike the deceased pony he sat upon.
"There, there, no need to beat a dead horse so to speak," said Roxanne, "I'll give you some of my water. It's charcoal filtered through reverse osmosis."
Rox tended to give out too much information when she was nervous or afraid. And this time she was in no shape to be riding a horse. As she leaned over to give the little drummer boy a drink, Roxanne fell off her horse and into the open grave.
Roxanne gagged at the stench of the grave. The odor wasn't that of death as one would expect. It was obvious Milk Shake and his catty friends had been using the soft dirt for a singles polka bar, which is really slang for a catnip hubble-bubble den, which is slang for Tom and Jerry's Ozark Turtle surprise.
And what a surprise it was, especially when Roxanne realized there was a tunnel leading off at an angle, deeper into the ground! She gave a shriek of surprise, but quickly quelled it, as she grabbed hold of the quirt that had dropped from her grasp when she fell. Gingerly she inched toward the tunnel and wondered why she felt the need to explore further when she was obviously getting a catnip contact high right where she was. Could it be that while no one was paying attention to Milk Shake, the sweet kitty moseyed back to the barn at Bucks and Spurs ranch where he planned to hide in the hay loft ready to pounce when Roxanne emerged from the tunnel that began inside the grave and ended in the edge of tack and saddle room.
That was where Milk Shake made his move and took out a tiny ray gun from beneath his fur, because we all know that cats are little aliens out to accomplish world domination! Milk Shake used one of his sharp claws to set the ray gun's power to "KILL" and waited for the right moment, the tip of his tail twitching in anticipation.The wounded drummer boy, who had crept through the tunnel behind Roxanne, had his own plans. Turns out he wasn't as helpless as he appeared."Rat-a-tat-tat," he tapped on the drum that hung by his side.
"RAT-A-TAT-TAT," he tapped louder.
"All right, All right! I hear you." said Roxanne.
Her loud nasal voice caused Milk Shake to jump and shoot the hound dog that had come sniffing into the barn to see what all the ruckus was about.Milk Shake hissed as the poor dog disappeared in a puff of green smoke, which caused the wounded drummer boy to spin around wildly, looking for his dog. He spied Milk Shake beside a quickly vanishing mist of green, licking himself, as cats do, and cringed - because not only was he not a cat person, he was desperately allergic.
The creepy wounded drummer boy sneezed, frightening Milk Shake who leapt sideways, his tail straight up in the air and ears laid back. As he crashed to the horse manure-covered ground beneath the hayloft, he discovered the myth about cats always landing on their feet wasn't true. He landed, instead on his head, right on top of the wounded drummer boy's drum.
The End!
Authors: Susan Wade, Patsy Bell Hobson, Phillip Secca, RoseMarie Combrinck Coetzee and Terry Dubbs
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