3 March 2008

Gold Chrysanthemum

Today, after cashing a ticket on a 50-1 horse in the fourth race at Gulfstream (the highest price on which I have ever cashed a ticket), I gave the winnings to Sonja. Or perhaps I should say I was held up. Either way, we have one less bill to concern ourselves with. Paying bills when you win large may not be a sexy way to spend well-gambled money but it is one way you can keep yourself from just feeding it back to the greedy gambling machine.

When we got back from the racetrack I took the Hammer down to the river. There we spotted the biggest motherfucking beaver I have ever seen. The beaver paddled back and forth along the crumbling bank waiting for an opportunity to get back to bucking up the eight inch diameter cottonwoods he had already fallen by the river's edge.

A few times the big beaver dove with a disapproving slap of his tail. Each time he surfaced he stretched his black nose into the air to inspect its contents. Then he continued his slow paddling back and forth, making eye contact with both me and my dog as he did so. It was a damn fine beaver show; the best I had seen since my days working on the river when the local beaver could be counted on to swim by at just about the same time every day.

The Hammer did not know what to make of the beaver. It was too big to eat, did not smell enough to roll in and that slapping tail sounded all business and no pleasure.

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