Imp's Fury

Cowboy here. Don’t think I’ve ever mentioned that the imp has a temper – a serious temper. Outside of the occasional pout or under her breath mutterings about squids, bullies, baboon buttheads, Neanderthals, it’s a rare event that causes Sar’s temper to reach a boiling point. I thank the good Lord that fury wasn’t aimed in my direction.

Are you laughing yet? I know most of you are aware that my stealth (sneaky) warrior woman is pint sized next to me but that doesn’t mean Sar’s an easy pushover. It’s amazing how powerful a woman can be that weighs slightly over 100 lbs. I’ve seen women in the military use their highly trained maneuvers to take down a man twice their size. I’ve seen them use minimum effort to best an opponent that seemed overwhelming. Also, I’ve seen my wife lose her temper, curse, spit, fight dirty. Sar doesn’t recognize any rules of decent behavior when she’s mad as a wet hen.

So, we’re at a gathering of dogs, their handlers and owners – on base – all military, active and retired - watching obedience trials, agility trials plus just plain funny, dumb dog tricks. Lots of youngsters, families, old Neanderthals like me. Plenty of dogs, mostly large breeds, all on leads strutting their stuff.

We’re watching another agility trial. When it’s over, a dog that didn’t do as well as its owner expected – a Belgium Malinois, its owner a Marine Lt. Colonel on active duty – starts to beat his dog with the other end of the leash. The dog is cowering; the Colonel is cursing; my wife races toward the pair on Pegasus’ wings. Sar comes up behind the Colonel - - -

Did I ever mention Sar’s a kick boxer?

The imp has a look on her face that says the man is dead meat. She jump kicks the 6-foot, 200+ lb. man in the middle of his back. He goes down; the imp kicks a knee out of joint, grabs the dog’s lead, yells for an MP.

Chaos ensues. Folks are yelling at the Marine, cheering Sar.

The MP’s take the Colonel in hand – conduct unbecoming, etc.

Sar soothes the dog.

Base Commandant announces ice cream is on the house.

Sar tells me the Malinois belongs to us now until it’s ready to go to a new home. Our Neo, Sweetie snuggles up to the MALE Malinois. I swear that animal is gay.

I tell the imp she could have been hurt. I’ll discuss this further when we’re home. Sar says it wasn’t such a big deal; it wasn’t as if she maimed the guy. Sar’s version of maiming vs my version of maiming seem to differ at bit.

Other news: The imp and I have been traveling a bit. Visited friends overseas, spent time in the Baltics, ate a lot of good food. Sar’s been back/forth to Gulfport, MS to visit Vi and Glory. The ladies are being encouraged to write a bit of their life history; Sar has already written some of it accounting for the time they lived together. The stories make me ache a bit for the childhood she had, also for the childhood she should have had. Sar sees it differently, recounts all the good times to hold onto.

Just before we went out of the country, the imp was able to get several truck-loads of snow delivered from the Olympic mountains to our yard. Yeah, anatomically correct snow people – some of them monstrous in size – neighbors were appalled as well as delighted. Bull helped the imp; that man will do anything to stay on Sar’s good side. Bull’s mantra: She cooks. I eat.

Finally, we’re home. Spring is showing signs of happening. Sar is dancing again, climbing trees to wave to God, cooking, baking, working in the garden. Our home is full: 2 dogs, 4 cats, a retired sailor and marine, a very busy imp.

I’m content.

Cowboy