Hammered Cat

Hammered Cat

The handle on my favorite hammer needed to be refinished, so I sanded it, sprayed on a coat of polyurethane and hung it over the edge of the picnic table to dry. A moment later I heard a blood-curdling yowl, and looked around to see my big fuzzy yellow cat sailing across the yard with the hammer stretched out behind, stuck in her big fuzzy yellow tail. I thought this was the last I would see of my beloved hammer, but the cat veered just before exiting the yard and ran around in circles instead. Eventually the hammer flew off. My cat quickly regained her dignity, but the hammer’s handle, covered with gravel, leaves, sticks and big fuzzy yellow hair, required a complete makeover.

J. Louis Bledsoe

Short Cut

The last time I drove home for a visit, my dad was in his shop building several stools for my niece. When my mom asked him to sit with us and have a Coke, Dad said he would come in as soon as the last stool was glued and clamped.

Well, after about 20 minutes Dad came in, mumbling under his breath, drank a glass of water, and left. He returned 20 minutes later and headed for another glass of water. I realized something wasn’t quite right, so I handed him a Coke and suggested that he take a break. After he had taken a few sips, I casually inquired as to what the issue was. His response went something like this:

“I just don’t understand it. The last stool had a little bit of a rock in it because one of the legs was about 1/8″ shorter than the others. That should be easy to fix, but I’ve cut 1/8″ off of that danged leg three times now and it’s still too short.” Suddenly, he got up and headed back towards the shop. On his way out the door, he turned to us and said, “Don’t you say a thing—not a single word!”

Ralph D. Wilson II