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Thursday, Dec. 18, 2014
There was a bobcat in our neighborhoodPosted Tuesday, October 26, 2010, at 4:01 PM
My first alarm clock had to be wound each evening and it emitted a jingling, tintinnabulation bell sound. The next one was a clock radio that made an irritating, callithumpian, buzzing sound as it interrupted my rest. Our current alarm clock is digital and it has an eardrum piercing, brain stabbing electronic beep that could be used to warn an aircraft carrier that it is near a shoal.
Last Monday I was sleeping that deep, pleasant, restful, magnificent delicious sleep; the stage of sleep that is so enjoyable just before the alarm clock jangles and penetrates my brain and yanks me from reverie to the beginning of a new day. When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
I clawed those crusty bacon bits from the corners of my eyes and struggled to adjust to the dim light and then I saw what was causing the cacophony: A bobcat. I don't know about you but that is not a common sight in our neighborhood especially at that time of day.
It was the usual color but a bit smaller than normal. Much to my surprise it had been genetically engineered and changed so that it could adapt to its new environment and its utilitarian purpose.
I watched the intruder lumbered up to our front door and demanded to be let inside. It was then I realized that this bobcat was not a living breathing animal but a piece of equipment that BW had rented from our local Ferguson Hardware Store. "Open the door," she yelled as the Bobcat teetered on the steps, "I am in a closet cleaning frame of mind."
BW rode Bob Cat like a wild mustang as it roared into the living room, pivoted like a discus thrower and pointed its scoop end at the hallway door. Dismounting like a bronco rider thrown by Big Bad Boy at the Dallas Rodeo, she donned a hard hat, protective goggles, a pair of shucking gloves and steel toed shoes and went to work. She looked like Brownie our childhood pet dog trying to dig a ground hog out of his lair.
That closet looks like the houses of those people on TV who are hoarders. She began to throw items into the bucket on the Bobcat: 16 boxes of shoes that had not seen daylight since 1987, a suitcase of clothes circa Donny Osmond in his prime, 16 board games ranging from Pharaoh goes Hawaiian to Who Cut The Cheese, eight of her winter coats from before our daughters were born, three posters from the 1923 Corn Festival in Worthington, a steam powered vacuum cleaner, an Arthur Godfry song book for the ukulele and a 1972 Elvis cushion from Hilo, Hawaii. Next came a dining room table and eight chairs I thought we sold in 1988. Bob Cat groaned as she propelled it out the door and emptied it into a dumpster. Now we can almost get the closet door shut.
Next month we will receive the Plainfield Clean Up, Paint Up, Fix Up award from the TV show hoarders.
Larry grew up north of Calvertville on a farm and graduated from Worthington High School. He lives in Plainfield and can be reached at Goosecrick@aol.com or (317) 839-7656. Write him at 6860 Sunrise Drive, Plainfield, Ind., 46168. He has written five books.
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