Cougar. Puma. Catamount. Panther. Painter. Mountain Screamer.
Whatever you want to call it, the facts are these:
A MOUNTAIN LION WAS IN OUR NEIGHBORHOOD.
If you were here, I’d meet your wide eyes, have my fist over my mouth and whisper, “I know!” Because, seriously. Seriously!
We did not see the cat with our own eyes. We read about it in the paper. We are on a very short street that t’s into a long main road. Apparently, said cat was strolling down the middle of this main road like he owned the place. As I read the report out loud, Max heard the streets mentioned and remarked, “Hey! That’s close to us!” (Walking Monday has made us much more familiar with our surroundings.) “That’s really close.” I replied. “THAT’S scary!” he said.
No foolin’.
In the end, the Game, Fish and Parks were called in and the cat was shot in a backyard that is literally YARDS away from our house. It’s sad to know that the animal had to be killed, but we are talking about an adolescent, 75 pound predator. Did I mention that it was IN OUR NEIGHBORHOOD? *SHIVER!*
We had a little discussion with the kids that if they heard growling or saw a mountain lion to get inside right away. “What about Monday?” they asked. Every man for himself they were told. Then, amid their protests, we assured them that Monday- a.k.a. “Pansy” or “Chicken” – would probably waste no time in getting to safety and would in fact probably run them over to get indoors.
Everyone was satisfied with this.
Then today. Today they (the kids that is. Monday pooped on the welcome mat last night and we woke to the stench. She was summarily banished outside.) were underfoot all day and when the time came to make dinner, I ordered the troops out. Not long after, screaming broke out and they were inside again, breathless and giddy.
“We thought we heard a mountain lion!”
Obviously they are COMPLETELY missing the moral of the ‘Boy Who Cried Wolf’ that we’ve been reading as of late. Won’t they be surprised when there IS a cat and the door is locked?
Now you really are speechless, aren’t you?
**In the words of my husband, “I would NEVAH do dat!” If you would like to read the Rapid City Journal article about the event, you can do that here.
“the facts were these”
I did it for you, Elisabeth!
R.I.P., ‘Pushing Daisies.’ Where is Ned and his magic finger when you need him?