My husband is fuming about our cat. Smoke-billowing-from-his-ears angry. Curiosity better move over, ‘cause the cowboy is first in line. When he went out to feed the cows and horses, the cat dared not to give him the time of day. 
Brushed him off, you might say. (Never mind she is a CAT. Snubbing is her native language.) Probably doesn’t help kitty’s personality that we named her Puppy. Sarcasm and contrariness seem to run in the family and clearly the cat is not immune.
Brushed him off, you might say. (Never mind she is a CAT. Snubbing is her native language.) Probably doesn’t help kitty’s personality that we named her Puppy. Sarcasm and contrariness seem to run in the family and clearly the cat is not immune.The cowboy believes all living beings can be trained like horses and should be submissive when called upon to do so (including me . . . but that’s a WHOLE ‘nuther blog!).Hubby is what equine savvy people call a “horse whisperer”. He first began this undertaking when his patience level defined him as more of a “horse yeller”, (not to be confused with “Old Yeller” who had to be put down), 
but in the past few years he has become fairly reputable and talented with the whole “breaking wild mustangs” thing. (Ironically, I always wanted a mustang too – just one from 1967 in Candy Apple Red. Sigh . . . )
Anyway, I digress. Because the cowboy can adeptly take an unbroken mustang and have him following, loading, eating out of his hand, and disengaging his hindquarters (yeah, that’s a thing), sometimes in a matter of minutes, he believes he should be able to do this with all living creatures.
Our cat disagrees.I’m eager to see who wins this battle.
One aspect of the weekend I found particularly enjoyable was the 2-block hike to the bathroom located upstairs and inside the dormitory of the Fairground Swine Building of the Will Rogers Equestrian Center across the street from the National Cowgirl Museum. Yee. Haw. When I first stepped into the dark, abandoned concrete shower, which was creepy enough to be the setting where my horror movie doppleganger will die gruesomely, I was startled by an enormous hog left behind from last weekend’s judging – no wait, that’s just a prize-winning cockroach. He and I did NOT get along. It was a quick shower.
she said 
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