The Cougar

Secondhand Tales Of The Familial Sort

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Source

In the grand tradition of modern family phone call scenarios, I often enjoy at least a once or twice a week conversation on speakerphone with both my parents. They live about an hour north of me, and due to our super busy schedules, I just don't get to see them as often as I would like. Speakerphone chat with the 'rents fills that lack of in person convo gap quite nicely. I mean, my parents and I exchange calls and texts throughout the week, so it's not like we don't keep in touch, it's just that the speakerphone interludes are like family meetings of the reunion kind or something. I've even written before about how my dad texts me like he is talking on a CB radio. Good times and a Texas sized 10-4 good buddy, over.

It was during this morning's rather long and rambling word exchange that I found my stomach rumbling and told Ma and Pa that I was signing off to go eat some morning chow. Dad, A.K.A. known in these parts as Rambling Ron said, "Wait a minute, I gotta tell ya one more thing, it's great!"

"Cool," I replied, "Shoot."

"Well, you know how my Mom saw the cougar earlier this week." my dad began.

In order to catch you all up on the narrative, let me first start with where my grandparents live. They live in a little trailer with an addition on the side of a foothill near Lake Pend Oreille. The place that they dwell in is owned by a woman I'll call V. V hails from Pennsylvania, and she and my grandparents have had all manner of adventures over the last twenty years.

Anyway, my grandma walked down to the edge of the driveway and collected the mail the other day, just like she does most days. Grandma is a pretty small woman. Like less than five feet tall and sub 100lbs in the weight department. Don't let her small stature fool you though, she is a total spitfire and is renown in family lore for her hair pulling, skillet throwing, SOB name calling abilities. Grams is a tough cookie.

About thirty minutes after the mail was collected Grandma let out a shout. A giant cougar was walking right past her kitchen window and mailbox! By the time my grandpa had grabbed his rifle the beast had moved on, but it had done it's apex predator job and frightened the starch out of my grandma.

Fast forward a few days to my phone call with Dad. "So anyway, V will hardly come out of the house now she's so scared. But Amazon delivered a package the other day." Dad rambled on. I did notice his voice was starting to rise as it usually does when he's gonna lose it when telling a tale. Mom was already giggling in the background so I knew something mirth inducing was coming.

"So, how does Amazon play into this tale?" I inquired.

"She ordered a couple of sirens for her and Mom to wear." my dad blurted out and busted up laughing. "You know the ones that go MEE MOOO MEEE MOO!"

The first image that flashed in my head was a scene from Despicable Me when those dratted Minions made an ambulance noise, the second was a image of my grandma wearing a flashing siren that was shrieking in a loud and hostile tone.

I couldn't help it, I cracked like a toddler dropped egg.

Dad continued, "Then the other day your grandpa was sitting with your aunt in a couple of chairs up by the shop and said, 'why the hell does your Mom have a snow shovel to get the mail!'"

Apparently grandma now walks to the mail box with her siren shrieking and packing a big plastic snow shovel. That big old cougar SOB doesn't stand a chance.

Not a cougar. Most definitely a murderer of mice.

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And unless otherwise cited, as almost always, all of the images in this post were taken on the author's rather amused and non siren infused iPhone.

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