Everybody got out for a bit of sunshine yesterday, and a good thing, too, because the weather is taking a turn for the worse again today. Snow and big wind are in the forecast for this afternoon, and something wintry is already sliding down Pikes Peak and taking aim at Bibleburg.
Turkish, who lives for the great outdoors, often proves difficult to retrieve. He can dematerialize at will and reappear at a time and place of his own choosing, like Radar on “MASH.” Step out on the porch, you will see nothing. Call the cat, ditto. Turn around to go back inside and poof, there he is. But just try to catch him.
Recent careful observation has led me to two of his hidey-holes. The first is underneath the front porch, where a previous owner overlaid the original concrete stoop with boards for a decklike feel. There’s a Turk’-sized space underneath, camouflaged by shrubbery.
That’s his low sentry post. I found the high one yesterday after watching him stalk a squirrel for practice, in case he needed to bring down something more challenging, like a mule deer or perhaps a moose. Turk’ hopped onto the back fence and then stepped onto the garage, briefly vanishing from sight before reappearing on a perch near the neighbor’s tree, scanning the horizon for the Enemy.
Meanwhile, my friend Hal has weighed in regarding his layoff. We spoke briefly last night, and he’s choosing to look at this as an opportunity rather than a setback. I was laid off in the mid-1980s and was briefly furious before realizing that I should’ve left the paper on my own six months earlier. I spent the next six months hunting work, cashing unemployment checks and riding my bike before something finally popped up on the copy desk at The New Mexican in Santa Fe, two weeks before the public sugar tit was due to run dry.
That would be my last newspaper job. And I think The Chieftain was Hal’s.
