Swatworth the (self named) Magnificent was in a pickle. He had just been enjoying a nice bobcat outing with Jean, complete with periodic delicious treats from Jean’s pouch and all was well with the world. Then a diesel truck roared up the driveway and scared the kitty fur out of him. Without a thought he bolted out into our sagebrush field and disappeared. “Uh Oh!” thought the people we were walking with.
But they didn’t know Jean.
Swatworth could play a good game of fierce independence (a VERY good game mind you).
Jean called. Nothing. He called again. Silence. Picking up a pet carrier, he started walking in the general direction where the panicked bobcat had flown, feeling for his presence. Getting warmer. Warmer. Sure enough he saw the twitching tail of a flattened cat hiding beneath some sagebrush ahead and to the right. Deliberately ignoring him Jean walked past.
That was just too much. Jean was ignoring him! (Plus — there went safety in this large scary field in the middle of nowhere.) Without turning Jean felt himself being followed. He walked on a bit, put down the carrier, threw in a piece of meat and kept on walking.
Swatworth entered the carrier, ate the meat, came out and continued to follow Jean, who made a big circle back to the carrier. Jean put in another piece of meat but this time he stayed. Swatworth casually entered, Jean gently closed the door, and that was that. Nothing was said about loss of majesty, nobility. Or of panicking. Swatworth was carried back, his dignity intact. The incident was never referred to again.
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