Merlin and the Meatballs

            I was relieved to learn that Merlin was not in the same freezer as the meatballs.

            I needed to get the meatballs for supper, so I asked my brother which freezer to check.  I was hoping they would be in his kitchen freezer, but instead they were in one of his two chest freezers in the basement, the ones that mostly hold the ten-pound (six to a box) bags of cat food, which we refer to as “glop.”  With the consistency of runny, raw hamburger when thawed, “glop” is ground up miscellaneous meats and fish, including salmon and chicken (scales and feathers and all).  John’s cats, big and small, thrive on that diet—and so do his big dogs.

            But the glop was not my worry.  Running into Merlin was.  You see, Merlin the elderly bobcat died a while back during the rainy season.  Not wanting to dig a grave in the mud, John froze him instead.   Despite all the strange sights I have witnessed here—such as the deer head thawing in the sink and the dead chickens in a box on the back porch—still, the thought of opening a freezer door and seeing a frozen bobcat bothered me.     

Fortunately, John knew where the meatballs were, and they were not in the same freezer as Merlin.  I snatched them up and considered, as I walked past the cougar cage back to my house, what an interesting life I live.