You may see this as an election. I see it as something else. Where you just want to know who wins, I am trying to plan ahead for whether or not we are invading Iran, wondering if my little neck of the woods will actually have law enforcement, and hoping against hope that Maricopa County will not resume its chant “Build Baby Build!” limiting our economy to a single industry. (Yup, only voted for the 4 of races that matter me, and the last point covers one candidate and one proposition at the same time.)
As the early voting was coming in, and I was pondering 1. What exactly will all the remaining natural spaces in the State be converted to, 2. by an industry that is not representative of the entire population but seems to carry the largest share of the attention, and 3. If all that natural space is concreted over, where will our necessary local vigilantes bury the bodies? I think you get the picture: My mood was not a good one.
This is what I found when I looked out the back door at my soon to be vanished mountains:
William, the Spider Hunter was laying prone, head on the ground staring intently at something under the door way; mere inches from
Mortimer, the Wildlands Hunter, also laying prone, parallel to Willy, head on the ground, staring intently at the same spot.
Willy and Mortimer, to my knowledge have never laid in such close proximity before. It almost appeared they were (gasp!) friends seeking a common goal.
All I could see of Slugger was his butt, and that he was standing, but his head was directed at the spot Mortimer and William were staring at.
Let me digress here:
Willy will open a can of Whoop Ass at any time. Of late, Mortimer is not allowed in his presence, unless it is for a romp, and only when Willy says it’s OK.
While Slugger may protest sometimes if Morty takes his toy, a mere second later, he forgets he ever had a toy to begin with, leaving Morty with the prize and Slugger holding no ill will.
Slugger has no illusions of grandeur and will yield if anyone gets mad at him.
Want to know what I found when I opened the door?
There was a baby tarantula on the stemwall beneath the door way. Slugger was between it and his brothers. The fact that neither Willy nor Morty, both of whom are known to attack tarantulas allowed Slugger to get between them and their goal was impressive enough. But the more important observation is pure Slugger: He was kissing the spider.
You have to keep in mind here that this had been going on since before I checked on the boys . At the very least, several seconds had passed between the time I looked out the door, realized there was something amiss, and opened the door. It took a few more seconds to comprehend what Slugger was licking. In all that time, there were several slobbers directed from Slugger’s person to the tarantula’s person that I witnessed. But when I got the boys inside and checked on the spider, not only was he in tact, but he still had his hairs. (Tarantulas throw their hairs when disturbed).
Another something of note is that when I realized that Slugger was kissing the spider, said spider was not launched into a defensive position, nor did he bite Slug. Seems Slugger’s charm can cast a spell on any species, even bugs.
Otis was my hero many years ago when he defended a puppy against a coyote, but didn’t hurt the coyote, even though he could. (https://ranchrunamuck.wordpress.com/2012/09/16/in-loving-memory-of-my-hero-otis/)
Slugger is my hero now because he protected a baby spider against his older brothers, one of whom believes no tarantula should live, the other who probably ate a few in his life just to survive, and both of whom have rolled a defenseless Slugger on many an occasion.
The natural urge to protect what matters: That is all pit bull.
The natural and sincere belief that everyone and everything is a friend, to be loved, that is 100% unique to Slugger.
I love all my kids equally, but I absolutely can not imagine a life without Slugger. I don’t know how I made it so long without him.