Filthie's Mobile Fortress Of Solitude

Filthie's Mobile Fortress Of Solitude
Where Great Intelligence Goes To Be Insulted

Saturday, 17 June 2017

Caturday: Canadian Edition

I used to hunt these things with a passion but never with the intent to kill them. They're like ghosts. I think I may have seen them a couple times; I heard the movement in the trees and brush and maybe  saw the flicker of light and shadow that may have been a retreating cat - but only once did I get a clear, confirmed sighting.

It was cold as hell out, and only idiots would be out hunting in weather like that. But there we were, sharing the same space on this earth in a cold glade somewhere in the bush. It was windy and I figure the noise of the wind must have covered the sound of my footsteps and allowed me to get the jump on him.

I never took advantage of it. I just watched him through the rifle scope as he moused in the snow looking for something to eat. When I got up to leave he picked me up and just stared, perhaps astonished that a klutzy animal this large had managed to sneak up on him. He stared at me through those eyes that say everything and say nothing at the same time. It was almost like he knew I wasn't going to take the shot.

Am I the only one that thinks this is a really, really BAD

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