and meanwhile in the grasslands of africa ...

it started off innocently - questions about life in seattle. cooking patterns, usage of oil and spices, the availability of bay-leaf (i nodded sagely without the faintest clue as to what a bay-leaf was), the freshness of the frozen rotis (an oxymoron if i ever saw one) and the price of gas.


like masai tribesmen stalking a lone lion they were patient, following the spoor accurately, forcing me right where they wanted me. i ran through the tall grass, shaking my mane occasionally to shake the flies off my face, not really bothered by the puny figures carrying sticks but with a faint sense of unease that i was playing into their hands. but i plunged on nevertheless, confident that a few swipes of my paw and a few choice roars should do the trick.


and then i found myself in an arrayo that was blocked off at one end by rocks that had been pushed down from the slopes above. my senses tingled but i still wasn't overtly worried. i whirled around and then almost fainted in surprise, where i'd sensed a half dozen men there were now a few dozen spread across the river-bed in a ragged formation leaving me no way to escape without a fight. i took a few paces back and pawed the ground, the men started to approach cautiously but relentlessly, spears at their shoulder, shields held in front of them. i roared then, a futile attempt to scare them off. they kept moving forward.


i then did what i do under extreme duress. i rolled over onto my back and kissed my furry ass goodbye.