Quickie : Cowboy Hunting
Way down yonder at the Real Canadian Superstore, Jeff and I had just finished shopping for essentials and were about to head back to the old homestead. We were preparing to leave the parking lot when Jeff pointed out what he called a “real authentic cowboy”. He then asked me if I had seen him, this was back in the days when I still had my eyesight. Jeff described him as an older gentleman wearing a cowboy hat, jeans, shit kickers, and full leather duster. He probably had a lasso and a six-shooter on his belt. However, the Cowboy was much too elusive and I had missed getting a gander at him.
Curiosity was killing this cat and only satisfaction would bring me back, I had to see this amazing critter for myself. We parked and quickly followed the old coot in Mantracker fashion. The trail went cold and we lost his scent. We pondered for a moment…”Where in the grocery store would this cattleman be shopping?“ He likely wouldn’t need meat or dairy products coming from a ranch, and I would think he would also have a bunch of crops, so no need for produce. Could he be at the pharmacy getting Tylenol to ease the aches and pains from wrestling all those cattle? We made a beeline in that direction only to find nothing but tumbleweeds. We then proceeded to peruse every aisle with hopes of encountering the herdsman but to no avail. This sly fox was not going to be corralled easily!
I hung my head like a man in constant sorrow and headed towards the exit, when low and behold there he was in all his cowboy glory. He was standing at the insurance kiosk. He must have been purchasing barn insurance or insuring other cowboy-related things. He resembled the great Sam Elliott with his iconic salt n pepper stache. He was every cowgirl's wet dream!
The next day, I headed over to the gym, and Jeff wasn't by my side as my trusty deputy like he usually is. As I stepped into the gymnasium, can you guess who I laid eyes on? None other than that rugged Rancher, sporting the same old-school attire, though this time without his signature duster. Now, I couldn't tell if he was just about to hit the trail or had just moseyed into the gym because, seriously, who sweats it out in Dungarees? Without hesitation, I whipped out my phone to shoot Jeff a text about the uncanny coincidence of running into our cowboy friend once again. His response? A simple but telling, "Looks like the Hunter has become the Hunted."
Regrettably, I didn't snap any pictures of this elusive country boy. It just didn't feel right, you know? It would've felt a tad too much like stalking, chasing down snapshots of a random feller.
