OK, I needed a hand with this one, so I grabbed Neighbor Bob and his
kid. Bob drove, we arrived and he took my arm and led Kitty and I to the
door and in we went. The old bag was there.

You guys all know the type, she was probably pretty about 55 years ago,
and as her beauty faded, she replaced it with makeup and cheap perfume.
She's also the type that comes totally unglued easily. I think the
Wallyworld people won't let her wear any cheap perfume, which is a relief
for everyone.

When we got near the old bag, she came toward us and offered me one of
those dopey little go-carts in a VERY loud voice.

Any of you guys out there that are genuinely handicapped can tell the
rest of us that people often do this to them. It is really annoying to
them and it was annoying to me.(Just because your legs may not work
doesn't mean you're deaf, dammit!)

I politely asked her how she expected me to steer one of those dopey
carts. She got a bit embarrassed.

Duh!

Anyway, she fawned over me a bit and asked me if the little guy was a
real live seeing-eye cat.

"Absolutely," I replied.

Bob squeezed my arm and off we went to sporting goods. I hit an end
counter with my knee, another with my foot, and plowed into a support post
and chewed Bob out for not paying attention.We got to sporting goods.

I wanted to buy a box of .223 ammo any watch the clerk get weirded out.

What I DIDN'T know is that Bob and darling daughter had already
rehearsed their act.

The sporting goods guy came out. He asked me what I wanted, and I told
him I wanted a box of .223FMJ 55 grainers.

"A gift for a friend?," he asked.

"Nope. For my Mini-14," I replied. "Anyone tried to break in and
they're toast."

"How do you shoot, are you just legally blind, or what?"

"Blind as a bat," I replied.

Bob's kid spoke up: "He shoots for a living. He's a trickshot."

He gave the kid a dirty look.

"We all work for Barnum and Bailey," said Bob."He's a trickshot, I'm an
accountant and my wife's a lion tamer."

The guy gave Bob's kid an apologetic look.

"Do you work in the Circus?" he asked the kid.

"Yeah, I work with him," said the kid, looking at me. "He shoots the
pinwheel I hold."

"You hold up a pinwheel and he shoots it?"

"Yes, I hold it in my teeth and give it a spin. When he hears the whir
it makes, he shoots."

"How long is the stick?" he asked.

"About four inches", said the kid, casually.

The guy went straight into shock when he heard that.

The clerk recovered and looked at Bob.You raise your family on the road
in the circus,Huh? how many kids do you have?"

"Had 4, got 3 now.We lost one some time back."

He didn't ask how. But the dubious look he gave me made me think that
he thought I'd shot one of my buddy's kids under the Big Top.

Then he asked me about the little guy and said that he was the first
seeing eye cat he'd ever seen. I explained that Bob's wife, the lion
tamer, had trained the little guy in her spare time, and went on a while
about the advantages of seeing eye cats over dogs.

He asked me what defensive measures I take if a dog tried to attack the
little guy.

I explained to him that there was a little known Federal Law that
permitted blind people with seeing eye cats to carry concealed handguns to
defend their cats from vicious dogs.

"Gee, who da ever guessed?"

It was the kid that saw her first, and gave me the high sign. Out of
the corner of my eye I saw the 'People Greeter'. She'd left her post and
was nearby picking up the phone. The kid sidled near her, and listened.

"Cops," said the kid.

The jig was up!( Leonard Skinner music here: Give me 3 steps)

The old bag looked up at us. "I've seen you in here before, and you're
not blind. It's against the law to bring an animal in here!" she nearly
shouted.

Had she threatened me first with the cops, I probably could have
'brassed it out' with threats of a huge lawsuit, but she had gotten uppity
and called the bulls first.

I scooped up the little guy, and Bob tossed his truck keys to the kid
who took off like a shot. It's common knowledge that the township out
here has EXCELLENT police response time.


Bob and I walked pretty quickly to the door, as not to stir up too much
attention and when we hit the pavement, the little guy went up under my
sweat shirt and promptly got really pissed off and started scratching
the hell out of me. Ny new asshole is now about three inches above my
naval.Bob was heading straight for the truck. I headed toward the exit.
Nobody followed us into the lot, but the old bag stood in the door,
trying to keep her eye on me.

By the time Bob got to the pickup, the engine was running, and all the
doors were unlocked. He unparked and headed toward me at the exit. The
kid popped open the door, and we made a pretty good 'Bonnie and
Clyde'exit. Out to the highway, we hooked a right and not an eighth of a mile
down the road, we saw the local LEOs coming with lights flashing.

I let Kitty out of his hiding place inside my sweat shirt, and he
looked pretty upset, but got over it. Three miles down the road, we got on
the Interstate and we were home-free.

I wonder what had happened if we hadn't unassed the area fast enough
and had gotten caught.

(By the way, there are two hours of tomorrow)