Written in October, 2019, this story is based upon a true incident experienced by a close friend of mine. He actually did make a bow hunting trip into the mountains of southwestern Montana in search of an elk to fill up his freezer.
“The freezer will be full of meat this winter,” Pete tells his skeptical wife as he heads to the mountains for his annual elk hunting trip.
Montana’s Big Hole Valley offers some of the best elk habitat in America. Pete has been preparing for his fall elk hunting trip over the summer, and he plans to bag a large bull elk this fall to fill up the home’s deep freeze with delicious and tasty elk meat.
In scouting the mountains, Pete knows exactly where the elk will be when he returns for bow hunting season. Armed with his very effective and precise compound bow, he knows success is just one accurate shot away.
Hiking into the mountains, Pete stakes out a familiar area and waits quietly in the tall grass and brush. The anticipation builds as his body stays on high alert. The nervous tension only adds to the anxiousness of the hunt.
Suddenly, an enormous bull elk wanders through the trail, just as Pete expects. His position provides a nearly perfect angle and distance. He takes careful aim with his bow, pulling it back with careful precision.
Plummeting to the ground with a groaning thud goes Pete!
The arrow flies harmlessly into the trees. Pete’s shoulder has popped out, and the throbbing sting is excruciating. He rolls around on the ground in acute pain.
Deliberately and triumphantly walking past the stricken bow hunter, the elk looks down at him with a slightly confident look as if to say, “I guess your freezer will be empty again this winter.”
This poem was originally written for another Friday, the 13th, back in December, 2019. Today seems like an appropriate time to publish it again. Of course, I am usually not too superstitious. Hmm, where are my lucky socks?
I think of myself as the “Top Cat” around this house. Mr. and Mrs. Wynter brought me home from a shelter about two years ago. They love skiing up on the big mountain, and they adore their cats even more . . . with one exception.
Me!! Yes, you got it. I always seem to be in trouble around here. My female cousins, Sky and Birdie, are treated like royalty. Can you imagine two cats being treated like a pair of princesses?
Well . . . I want to tell you my side of the story.
My given name is Revel, which isn’t such as bad name. While Sky is sometimes curious and Birdie is shy, I love the adventure of roaming and exploring the house.
A few days ago, I was in the garage with Mr. Wynter. He doesn’t seem to notice me as I glide along the garage door rails high above the floor. I can be quite the acrobat while walking this tightrope.
I enjoy chasing and teasing my cousins, especially Birdie. She is so timid, but she doesn’t seem to mind it when I am pulling a chunk of hair from her back. I have a cool collection of her hair stashed under the bed in the spare bedroom. Mr. and Mrs. Wynter haven’t vacuumed there for months.
Sky likes to pull open drawers in just about any room. I encourage her to open as many as possible. When she’s finished, I move in and pull objects out of the drawer with my mouth. It’s so much fun to leave a mess in every room of the house.
When Mr. and Mrs. Wynter eat dinner, I join them by jumping up on the dining table. They become easily annoyed with me so I have to be quick to jump back down to the floor. It’s sort of like playing “cat and mouse.”
Last week, I helped Mrs. Wynter do some baking. When she would turn her back, I would jump up on the kitchen counter. Have you ever seen a cloud of sifted flour float through the air?
It seems that everyone in the house has grown tired of my adventures. They call it mischief.
Oh my! The life of a “Top Cat” needs to be an exciting venture.
Last night, I climbed up on a bookshelf high above the master bedroom floor. There was a pot with a houseplant in it. I just couldn’t help myself. I pulled and pulled with my teeth and claws until most of the plant and dirt flew out and landed on the bed.
I guess I may have gone a bit too far this time. Mr. and Mrs. Wynter have been dressing me today in a prison outfit, complete with black and white stripes. I look more like a convict instead of a “Top Cat.”
Snickering at my unfortunate circumstances, Sky and Birdie now call me Rebel.
My youngest daughter and her husband provide a home for three rescued kittens (now full-grown cats). Revel, Sky, and Birdie enjoy their new home. And yes, Revel does have his moments. The photos of Revel were taken by my daughter.
Police issue an “All-Points Bulletin” in a flash. The local jewelry store has been robbed by an elderly man dressed in a white suit. Patrol cars frantically scurry here and there—no luck!
Detective Joe Friday joins the hunt. His crime-solving skills are legendary. He always reminds each interviewee, “Just give me the facts.”
Driving down a quiet residential street, Friday spies a white ice cream vending cart on a corner. Selling ice cream treats to the neighborhood children, the gray-haired man hands out love and more.
Pulling up behind the cart, the renowned detective surveys the scene. Calling on his car’s radio for back-up, he knows he can’t wait. The last of the children walks away with their frozen, sweet treats.
Approaching the man in the white suit, Friday pulls out his gold detective shield. With a confident voice and a smile, he asks, “Do you happen to have something ‘hot’ on ice today?”
I have been living with my aunt and uncle for a few years on Mockingbird Lane. While I love my family a great deal, I must admit my life has been much too challenging at times.
I always feel frustrated at being the “plain” person in the family. I pretty much look like anyone who walks by our house, but I am sure people talk behind my back when they see the rest of my peculiar family.
Uncle Herman once greeted one of my dates at the door. When I came downstairs to meet him, he had rudely disappeared. I guess he felt overcome with fright upon seeing my uncle who stands over seven feet tall.
Aunt Lily, who is a devoted wife, enjoys preparing pancakes every morning, but I seldom have an opportunity to eat many of them. My uncle gobbles them down faster than she can cook them.
Grandpa is a gentle soul who enjoys telling stories about the good old days in Europe. I think my ears have heard every story at least three times over from this “past his prime” storyteller.
Cousin Eddie is quite a bit younger than I am. He is still in elementary school, but he misses a whole lot of school because he sleeps in each morning after a full moon. He wakes up at midnight, and he isn’t sure if he wants to howl at the moon or go in search of some red, bloody meat in the refrigerator.
As you can see, I don’t quite fit in with this family. I almost always have to walk to school by myself because all of my classmates walk on the other side of the street. One morning, they fled when they saw my uncle catch a ride to work in the company car (a hearse). He crawled in through the back door and lied down in the back.
I appreciate you listening. Please stay for a bit longer as I have several more grievances to discuss.
Uncle Herman has a steady job with Gateman, Goodbury and Graves where he works as a grave digger. Being big and strong, his employer appreciates his excavation skills. But for a mature man, he still melts down with childish temper tantrums when he doesn’t get his way. Good grief!
Aunt Lily and Grandpa stay in touch with relatives who still live in Europe. I sometimes dream of traveling there until I realize that they both have ancestors back in Transylvania. Yes, you got it! They are both vampires.
Eddie is a creepy juvenile delinquent, and his appearance scares everyone away. Who would want to play with a boy who is half vampire and half werewolf? I rest my case.
My naive uncle took me trick-or-treating a few times when I was younger. People loved his costume, but they became fearful when he would want to shake someone’s hand. They would freak out upon seeing all of the “real” hair on the back of his enormous hands.
Oh, I almost forgot. My uncle traces his family tree to Germany, and he is a close associate of Dr. Frankenstein.
So if you see me walking along the street in the neighborhood, please don’t run away. I would love to find a few new friends. All of my old ones are too scared to come around anymore.
“The Munsters” was an American sitcom back in the mid-1960s. Even though the show only aired 70 episodes, it gathered quite a following when the show went into syndication. By the way, Marilyn Munster did look like any normal, young woman with her blonde hair and modern dress.