The Wrong Place At The Wrong Time

Having another birthday always makes me reflect on my past adventures. As I was pondering my past and gazing out the window of my home office I spied a large bobcat crossing the creek on a fallen sycamore tree. I watched as he effortlessly leaped the final six or so feet onto the far bank.

I was immediately transported back to Mississippi, circa 1967. I was making one of my regular beer runs, you see Oxford, home of the university was in a dry county, and the entrepreneur in me couldn't pass up the chance to fill the demand. Having had several cans of my cargo it became clear to me that I needed to make a pit stop.

I hadn't seen another driver on this back road route so I pulled off into a small unmarked field road and proceeded to prepare myself to bleed the lizard. Just as the flow started I looked down into the ditch and to my shock and dismay, I was faced with a female bobcat with several kittens having dinner.

I can still hear her hiss, and although she made no aggressive move, I somehow found myself standing on the hood of the car. I quickly zipped up and slowly backed out onto the road and resumed my illegal activity. Of all of the places I could have stopped that day, I picked the wrong place at the wrong time.