Continuing my nostalgia for our summer of cooking for planters and living in the woods:
One night as I was walking to the outhouse I was overcome with a random, harrowing thought: cougars stalk their prey. Random, right? Perhaps not. Just as the thought was being birthed, something moved in the bushes. I pointed my headlamp in its direction and saw two eyes, wide set and a couple of feet high. Could it be one of the dogs? No, they were both in the trailers asleep. Could it be a deer? No, too short. Could it be a fox? No, too tall. I yelled for Mike and jumped inside the outhouse. I peed quickly and then realized that I had two options: a) make a run for it and hope that whatever it is doesn’t get me, or b) sit in the outhouse until I came up with a better idea. I chose option b. I tried to laugh it off and convince myself that it couldn’t possibly be anything scary. I heard Mike’s voice outside the outhouse and made a quick dash toward the campfire, dragging him along with me. The last thing I wanted was the stalking cougar to get Mike whilst he was trying to save me. Sheepishly I returned to the campfire and tried to act as if I didn’t care about the lurking beast in the shadows. I started peeing beside the trailer after that.