random brain droppings

I could tell some stories; some best in ASL:
Tree-Left, Bend right. Snap Up …Tree-Right, Quick Bend Left. Slow up. Still.
Still.

Full body movement. Images in the Air. Best in ASL.

Stories improbable, impossible, unlikely, untrue. Untellable.

“She watched her dogs rollicking in the Mesa weeds seeking rabbits.  then Boom, like a double barrel shotgun off they went, dead run towards the cow pond, around, up the hill, then at the base of the tree.
“Like a centuries old pot-metal clockwork toy: Up-Down, in opposing unison, Up Down, Down Up. Unending barking. Counter clockwise around the tree.  Down Up. Up Down. Click clack, Clack, click, the toy unwound.
“Her whistle endless recalling the now deaf dogs.
“Her eyes slowly adjusted from the open sun to the dark of the copse. She saw only the Puma’s eyes, and teeth. Gone. The tree’s largest branch bending slowly down; snapping back up as the neighbor tree bent down toward the other. then slowly up and finally still.  An improbable, impossible leap. Both trees now dead still.

“And, Gone.  The big cat, disappeared again into her lands, not ours.  This is her turf. These are her trees and she rules, and hunts, and hides, here.

“We are only unwelcome and inept visitors.

“At last, the dogs relent, come panting, tongues out, down the hill.
“‘Here’, she signs, “Come here, I have fresh water for you.’  She sets the bowl down but they are both already at the pond. The filthy murky, dark waters of the cow pond and they are already in it.  Filthy now they will need a bath, a hose on the patio at home, before they go in.  Then a bath upstairs with doggie shampoo and warm water, and towels, too many towels.  And, the car, the mud mats in back will need washed.

“But, they are giggling, laughing, eyes bright with, ‘Did you see, Mom? We Treed The Big Cat!! Did you See?!’

A story improbable, impossible, unlikely, untrue. Untellable.
Untellable because unleashed dogs chasing a federally protected mountain lion on National Forest land would be most illegal, fineable, incarceratable.
It never happened, of course.  It’s just story I told my dogs, Lili’Koi and Peppa’Joy.
Those two very fine, very good Girls have already crossed over the Rainbow Bridge.  Most unlikely I will be allowed to follow to the great green open fields of Doggie Heaven.
It’s just a story my girls tell to City Dogs: ‘We Treed A Mountain Lion!’
‘Improbable. Impossible. Unlikely. Untrue.’ the city dogs respond.

Then off my girls go to chase Rabbit Angels.  There are no Big Cats there, in Doggie Heaven.  Big Cats can kill with one swipe, one bite; there are no Big Cats in Doggie Heaven.  City dogs cannot believe that untrue story.  Pure fiction.

And so, too. My stories.  Pure fiction.

Improbable, Impossible, Unlikely, Untrue. Untellable, perhaps.

A book of fun fiction; a poor imitation of a Hitchhiker’s Guide; or dark, like a foul murky cow pond; an ersatz She Tells Tales Heart.

I already have a name for that book of untrue stories:

“My Cat Shot Me.”