Blogger and Silent Bobcat Strike Back. . . .

This weekend was a first for Blogger. He picked up his first hitchhiker.

Many people, far less fortunate than Blogger, never get an opportunity to pick up their second hitchhiker. Blogger, however, would like to report that this was an extremely educational experience. It's benefits involve humor to his friends and family.

In Northern California, near Lake Shasta, construction occurred on I-5 that were causing long delays. Blogger, firm in the belief that beaten men follow beaten paths, ventured off on the long backcountry route past Lassen National Park.

It was not long before he spotted a bedraggled hitchhiker, had pity, and embarked upon a seven hour conversation with his new found friend.

His new found friend was named "Bobcat." Bobcat confided to me (this seems to be of great secresy) that his real name was in fact "Jason." But no one calls him anything but Bobcat.

He was on his way to a meeting of the Rainbow People outside of Susanville. However, upon how discovering just how far Susanville was from dumpsters to look through, Bobcat decided that wherever I was going was the place to him. Particularly if that would get himi closer to Berkeley.

Bobcat explained to me that had just spent four months in Yellowstone observing and trying to prevent the slaughter of hundreds of bison. I was deeply touched and made a mental note to buy a movie such as Dances with Wolves or an old Western that had bison in them, so that when they become extinct, I can still enjoy watching them.

Bobcat and I actually had somethings in common. The "Neverlost" device on my rental car directed us to a switchback one lane road. Bobcat howled with delight as I took him back to the days of his youth with some powerslides and various stomach content sloshing manuevers.

Then he confided to me that his greatest wish for this summer was to go back to New York City to the Republican National Committee. I shared with him that I also wanted very badly to go back to the Convention. He seemed surprised that anyone would actually want to do something at the Convention other than hurl obscenities from the sidewalk across the street.

Eventually, Bobcat decided that Santa Monica was where he really wanted to go. So I drove him as far as Fresno. Upon getting out of the vehicle, Bobcat started to frantically search his backpack. Then look under the seat, etc. I asked himi what the problem was. He so, "Whoa man, you're really going to be freaked. I lost Chippy."

Now, I'm not exactly a Muse, but I strongly suspected that "Chippy" and I would not get along if left alone.

Trying to act calm, cool, and collected, I inquired as to the nature of Chippy's existence. Upon learning that Chippy was his pet rat, I was vastly relieved. I was worried that it was a pet snake or something of that nature.

Unfortunately, Chippy has still not been found. This is extremely sad. Because Bobcat informs me that Chippy is a "really cool rat."

I promised that if I found him, I'd try to find him a good home.

I'm thinking that the Fresno County Sewer System would do the trick. The question is, alive or dead?