Cat in a Vat

There’s been a couple of corkers on the farm lately.

Last weekend Warren (our Black Angus Bull) who had been behaving himself so well, got a devil inside him for the cows that moved into the neighbour’s paddock and decided to go head-to-head with Michael, the big red bull who's herd it was. Warren walked through a few fences to get there - sprang sprang went the barbed wire - "Oh Fuck" went our neighbour Peter who was between Warren and the cows.... For the next hour Ma & Peter chased Warren up and down the long paddock *in*their*utes* trying to herd him back into our property. A couple of times he charged the utes and things were a bit heated. In the end, Warren had a few hours to try his luck, until Michael sent him limping home battered and repentant. There was no love waiting for him here though, his little hijinks have eant him a one-way ticket to the sale yards as soon as he heals up.

Zac, who *loves* to find odd places to sleep in, was experimenting in the shed and had a near escape with the whole "curiosity killed the cat" meme when he fell into an open vat of olive oil. Nearly used up, the vat had been opened to equalise the pressure and assist in the removal of the last foot of oil. It's a vat almost as tall as I am and stainless steel. Actually, I've often thought that it looks a lot like the second stage of a propulsion system. Anyway, with attention diverted (perhaps due to Warren's frolicking around trying to mate with utes) the lid was left off, and just a covering sheet over the top.
Yes, CAT in a VAT. Zac didn't die, coz Ma heard an unearthly howling and scrabbling (Cat's Claws: Nil, Stainless Steel: One) but it was close. After we got over the shock, and the mess - try and imagine a large cat dunked into oil - those penguins from the ValDez have our sympathies all over again - the sheet pulled in after him, things knocked over, and then mopping and bathing the cat. It has now begun to enter into near-mythical status in the Family Story Parthenon.

In amongst all these happenings, my moment of spiritual clarity that happened on monday night has been (probably rightly) lost. It came about thusly - working late (conferring citizenship an another 68 keen new Ipswichians) then scooting down the freeway - reflecting on a crappy, long day. Then realising it was a new moon and that new energy should be due to cascade forth. Yes. Profound. In synchronicity with this thought, the Road Monster cut the lights. Everything but the dash readout telling me I was speeding went to black. For a moment my heart poised, debating if it should beat again or not, then reason kicked in.
"It's ok" I calmly told myself, "the headlights of that oncoming semi-trailer are sufficiently lighting my path" and indeed they were, and it did, and then reason reached for the Hazard Lights button, and in a very slow orange strobe we were able to slow safely down to the verge. Whereupon all the lights blinked back into life.
Genius.
So yes, after the adrenaline and multiple possible near death moments, there is a sense of fresh energy in my life this week. Life, if not great, is always endearingly chaotic.