The Goat Pen

That's kinda surprising. Most country folks appreciate a barn cat, for the eradication of rodents and such. Now, they're not ever going to let them in the house, that would be madness. But patrolling the grounds and outbuildings, sure. I wonder what this cat did to piss off your Pap?

This is kinda cool...

yea I saw that yesterday. I would assume its an editing trick

I read up on it, its a digital art piece

hedge wrote: ↑Wed Jul 27, 2022 5:21 am That's kinda surprising. Most country folks appreciate a barn cat, for the eradication of rodents and such. Now, they're not ever going to let them in the house, that would be madness. But patrolling the grounds and outbuildings, sure. I wonder what this cat did to piss off your Pap?

There were other cats to do the job. This cat just happened to annoy him to the point of anger.

My father could be very kind, thoughtful and caring, and he could be a monster if you angered him, at least until the last decade or so of his life. Even then, occasional signs of that old fire would flash…

I wonder what that cat did to anger your father so much?

It reminded him of his son who couldn't hit a jump shot.

Jungle Rat wrote: ↑Wed Jul 27, 2022 2:53 pm It reminded him of his son who couldn't hit a jump shot.

Heh. He was 14 or 15 at the time. It would be nearly 20 years before I showed up.

I was deadly 15’ and in though…

hedge wrote: ↑Wed Jul 27, 2022 2:44 pm I wonder what that cat did to anger your father so much?

Knowing him and knowing cats, it probably would get on top of a truck or tractor and scratch the paint in doing so and/or be “up under him” trying to get attention constantly.

Once you pissed that man off, it was game on for whatever. Hell, he ruptured a guy’s spleen in a fist fight when he was a deputy because the guy tried to run at the end of dad’s night shift and led them on a two hour car chase then ran into the woods and tried to jump dad with a black jack when dad ran in after him. This was told to me by dad’s old partner. Dad didn’t talk much about stuff like that. Apparently I was a year or so old, had just learned how to walk and dad was excited about coming home to see me and play with me when I woke up only to have that asshole ruin his morning and then try to crack open his (dad’s) skull with a black jack (dad stopped it with his forearm, which was badly bruised but not broken since the black jack hit it indirectly).

The same partner said dad once beat the shit out of three drunken paratroopers from Bragg who wouldn’t leave a house party one night they were called to break up when it got out of hand. There was an old sign/plaque thing dad had stored away in his things with “Bonecrusher” written on it. Deputies gave it to him as a joke after that night.Apparently dad crushed and caved in part of a soldier’s skull around the eye socket / sinuses with a punch and broke bones in another soldier’s foot by stomping on it with the heel of his cowboy boots. The soldiers told dad they weren’t going to leave and that they were the baddest mother fuckers his country ass had ever seen. At that time dad told them to leave again and when they refused, dad’s partner said dad took off his belt and holster, left the stick in the belt, threw the belt to his partner and jumped in the middle of the three soldiers.

Dad wouldn’t talk about such things with me. It’s all stuff I’ve heard from other folks.

So badass skips a generation? My dad was a CPA.

Heh

"Knowing him and knowing cats, it probably would get on top of a truck or tractor and scratch the paint in doing so and/or be “up under him” trying to get attention constantly."

One day she accompanied me, upon some household errand, into the cellar of the old building which our poverty compelled us to inhabit. The cat followed me down the steep stairs, and, nearly throwing me headlong, exasperated me to madness. Uplifting an axe, and forgetting, in my wrath, the childish dread which had hitherto stayed my hand, I aimed a blow at the animal which, of course, would have proved instantly fatal had it descended as I wished. But this blow was arrested by the hand of my wife. Goaded by this interference into a rage more than demoniacal, I withdrew my arm from her grasp and buried the axe in her brain. She fell dead upon the spot, without a groan.

One night, returning home, much intoxicated, from one of my haunts about town, I fancied that the cat avoided my presence. I seized him; when, in his fright at my violence, he inflicted a slight wound upon my hand with his teeth. The fury of a demon instantly possessed me. I knew myself no longer. My original soul seemed, at once, to take its flight from my body; and a more than fiendish malevolence, gin-nurtured, thrilled every fibre of my frame. I took from my waistcoat-pocket a pen-knife, opened it, grasped the poor beast by the throat, and deliberately cut one of its eyes from the socket ! I blush, I burn, I shudder, while I pen the damnable atrocity.

Oof