Let me just pretense this by saying the drill instructor portion was inspired by an acquaintance of mine who has since passed, R. Lee Ermey; referencing his unforgettable role in Full Metal Jacket. I can only imagine how big of a dick he must have been as a DI, but was nice as hell when I talked with him. We miss you, Lee.
Tiffany stared at the pair of large, polka dotted cheetahs just a few feet from her, and instinctively shrank back against me.
"Oh my God!" she exclaimed quietly, not wanting to upset the pair of large, golden cats. "Those really are cheetahs!"
I laughed good-naturedly at her response.
"You're in no danger." I said with a chuckle.
I made a kissy sound with my lips, and both Timba and Timon came over to me. I patted my chest, and each cat picked a shoulder to put their paws on as they stood up. Each one rubbed the side of their face against mine lovingly.
"You see," I began, "most people don't know that cheetahs have been domesticated almost as long as house cats. Cats were domesticated to keep rodents at bay and were given a safe place to stay in return. Cheetahs got the same deal for killing game. They were used for falconry before falcons were even thought of.
"These two are nothing but giant kitties, Tiffany. They won't hurt you. Well, unless you run. In that case, their instincts will kick in and they will see you as prey. Even as sweet as these two are, I have to be careful when I'm working outside. I wear a tee shirt with a pair of eyes on both sides. Cats are cats; it doesn't matter how big they are, they all react the same way. That's why I told you not to try and literally run away.
"Here, kneel down and call them. Just like your own Mr. Fluffy back home."
Tiffany stared at me incredulously.
"They really won't hurt me?" she inquired.
"Of course not!" I replied. "And if you're good with cats, you'll understand them just fine. Any cat that can purr and meow, has pretty much the same vocabulary. Now seriously, kneel down and call them."
Tiffany dropped to one knee and made a half-hearted attempt to call them over.
"Here kitties." she muttered. "here... Kitty, Kitty."
To her amazement, Timba and Timon dropped from my shoulders and approached her.
"Oh shit!" Tiffany exclaimed, looking at me in a panic. "Now what?"
"They're cats." I laughed. "Just pet them."
She reached out gingerly, and the two cats both muscled in to get petted. Timon (pronounced Temone), being the male, stuck his head in first, and began purring loudly as Tiffany rubbed his head. Timba eventually pushed him out of the way and purred just as loudly, as Tiffany rubbed her neck and back.
"They're just like cats!" she exclaimed incredulously.
"They are cats." I replied. "I told you, they have been domesticated almost as long as the common cat. You can go to Africa and take a wild cheetah kitten out of the bush, bring it home, and it will be a giant house cat. Albeit, a huge cat with a tiny head, but a friendly cat nonetheless."
"Why do you have them?" Tiffany inquired. "Why would you have cats like this? What purpose do they serve?"
"I have plenty of room for them to roam and even sprint if they need to." I replied. "But you remember I said they were domesticated to be used like falconry?"
"Yes."
"Well, the same holds true here. The fence is for them, as I said before. It's just a deterrent to show them the boundaries. Deer can leap over it, and wild hogs just bore through. The hogs are a particular nuisance in these parts. These two though, they handle it all."
"What do you mean?" Tiffany asked curiously.
She was no longer being bitchy about things, or afraid of the cats. She seemed genuinely interested, as she continued petting them and even butting heads.
"Well, you've had a cat leave you a 'present' before, right?" I inquired.
"Of course." she replied. "A mouse or a snake or something. It's a gift."
"It's not a gift." I explained. "It's their way of telling you how horrible a hunter you are, that they had to kill it and show you good they are. That's why they'll always eat their trophy in front of you. A cat will bring you that mouse or squirrel, but these two... well they like to leave me prey their own size.
"I get hogs, deer, and once in awhile, a beaver gets left on the porch. I've even gotten a turkey once. Yeah, I do shoot a lot of my own meat, but most of it comes from these two. Chances are good, that that venison we had for dinner was from a kill from these two."
Tiffany turned white.
"I ate roadkill?" she burst out. "You gave me-"
"Shut up!" I interrupted. "I did NOT give you road kill. What you ate - and enjoyed by the way - was either shot by me or killed by the cats. Time of death to butchering was the same."
I looked at her intently.
"Does it really matter to you how your dinner was killed?" I inquired. "Do you want to know how all the commercial meat you buy was killed, huh? Well, let me tell you, Tit-fanny; they run them all into a pen where they slit their throats with a razor sharp machete. As they're gagging on their own blood, they get turned upside down until they bleed out. Then, they're butchered. That's your store meat. Oh, and there's the other method where they put an electrode on the side of the poor cow's head and electrocute its brain."
Tiffany looked sick.
"That's your 'humane' way of harvesting meat commercially." I said sardonically. "Remember that the next time you eat a hamburger at the Falling Arches, or Jack in the Crack, or at Booger King, or when you have an In'n'Out urge. (Yes, I know that last one goes back to the 70's).
"All of the meat you get here was either shot dead with a humane bullet to the head, or else these cats took it down by way of nature and left it for me. Or from here on out, for us."
Tiffany was, for the first time in her life, at a complete loss for words. Never before, had she ever found herself remotely anywhere near this situation, yet here she was; petting a pair of cheetahs on the front porch of my log house and wondering if they had killed her delicious dinner.
"You should probably go on up to bed." I suggested. "You have really surprised me, Tiffany. You're petting my cats, and you haven't said anything overly snotty since dinner. It's a really good start, too. I'm actually amazed."
"Start?" she inquired nervously. "I was just trying to be nice."
