trash can chase

It was the barking at first. Rather, it was the idle growling of my faithful companion, Astronomer, as I had given up waiting for the clouds to drift out after setting up my telescope on the front porch after supper to witness the four large moons of Jupiter in alignment. I could hear her rumbling fuse of a bark as I stood at the sink in the kitchen finishing off cold soup. And then it was a choking bark, like she was trying to talk faster than her brain would allow.

As I approached the front, there were those spinning lights, and the knocking from above, and I worried the porch overhang standing on three wobbly timbers would collapse onto poor Astronomer before she was done cursing.
Outside now, there was somebody...no, something in there, and I can't explain how a creature with two eyes(me) could make direct one-eye contact(it), but along with Astronomer's comments and my own one-eyed shotgun, 'It' bolted on two creaking stilts.

I had to shove Astronomer out of the driver's seat and reach down to the floorboard to retrieve the dropped keys a couple times before we could give full pursuit in my '71 Mercury Comet. We didn't exactly have piercing searchlights, and lost the escapee out in the dark, Astronomer not relenting in her opinion of the situation one iota as we sat in darkness with engine stalled and cold soup coming up.

You're the first one I'm telling, and I'd sure appreciate you not mentioning this to nobody.

image by Hervé