E is Enjoyable Easter

E is for Enjoyable Easter and that's what I Experienced yesterday.

Some long time friends invited me out to dinner at their place.  I met them many years ago when they had a migration of nine to eleven cats to their acreage.   Later we discovered where they'd come from and later there would be more, too. The family, which included hubby, wife and two kids, did not ask much of me.  Poppa Inc. paid the bill for the spays and neuters of all those cats, something they could not afford, but they drove the cats up to be fixed to the vet I used them, up in Wilsonville, waited the day out up there, then picked them up and recuperated them at their place.  This is not the usual.

Later, the grange they manage, hosted a Neuterscooter clinic where almost 200 local cats were fixed including some we snatched from a hoarder who lived across from the grange that morning.  Myself, the son and his father ran over and stuffed as many flea anemic near dead kittens into our pockets, even my purse as we could.  She would not open the door for us but we could not do nothing.  The Neuterscooter vet cleaned them up and even got them homes at the end of the clinic.

We've kept in touch mainly at Christmas since that time.  They're a whole lot of fun to be around.   Yesterday was no exception.  Their kids are grown and on their own now but their daughter was there, with two of her friends.   And a work partner of the man of the house also was present.  He too is funny enough to be on TV, in my opinion.

The moment I arrive, Tom tells me they've got another cat showing up in the field.   E comes up with binoculars so we can check the cat out from a distance.  We don't know if it's owned or not, feral or tame.  "Let's go get one of my traps and catch him", I suggest enthusiastically.  Tom laughs, and nudges his coworker, like he had told him to expect such from me, and says, "You are totally all in, still, aren't you?"  "Of course," I say, smiling.

We laughed and laughed.  Then he pulled out three shot guns and we went to stand in the rain in the field and shoot skeet from a small contraption that slung them and was attached to an old tire.

Even though I've never shot skeet and have not shot a gun since I was young, turns out I was the best shot present and hit 9 or 10 of 11 targets.  The kick of the shotgun, whose butt end I lodged just beneath my sore shoulder on my arm, nailed me good on the 10th shot.  It's black and blue today!

I used the longest gun of the three and would wait til the clay pigeon topped out on height and then aim just below it figuring I would be a bit slow (since I'm old) and that strategy would accommodate for my "age related" slowness.  This worked well!  We had such fun.  We pretended we were high class English out in the country for a day of shooting.  Fake accents ensued.

The young people left leaving myself and my friends and his partner.  We had great time!

E is for a very enjoyable Easter.