Some days I really just want to live in a cabin, well away from all this nonsense. Porch chair. Suspenders. Battered old book of poetry I've read to death. Cat in the window. Lazy old beagle called Colonel McGruff snoozing beside me, except when needed to huff a low howl of a warning if anyone comes up a narrow dirt road.
Is it the whisky wagon, here to drop off my monthly jug alongside coffee and grains? No? Well, that's also what the bear-deterrent of a shotgun is for.
