Wednesday, March 7, 2012


The majestic buffalo. (Or bison, depending on how particular you are.)

Covered in plaster, because he's our rebuild mascot.
This particular little sculpture was supposed to be for luck. The In-Laws had given it to The Hubby when he first got out on his own. It's a hefty old thing, and for the longest time it had been sitting on a shelf on the wall behind our couch, along with a few pictures and some other knick-knacks we possessed. Honestly we're not big on "decorating," so anything like that was of sentimental value and had been given to us from someone we cared about. Although we're still working on the house, any shelves we do put in will be purely for necessities, not looks. Nail holes in the wall would just be something to patch up later when we move, so we're not even worrying about it.

But back to the story, this particular buffalo was meant to be lucky, and I never ever liked it. I was constantly trying to get The Hubby to part with it, to no avail. It was awkward, and heavy, probably 5 pounds, and was always placed in an inconvenient spot. But the spot above the couch was the worst idea ever, in my opinion.

See, the wonder-kitties were always perched on that particular shelf. They'd jump from the windowsill onto the back of the couch onto the shelf then usually down onto one of our surprised shoulders. (Then down onto the stomach or lap then down to the floor, all to be repeated later, but I digress.) But they loved the hell out of that shelf, and trying to get them down always resulted in our pain, so we gave up. This is why I hated the buffalo's location.

Still, it surprised me when it happened. I was sitting on the couch next to The Hubby, watching TV, when one of the kitties jumped up there and while trying to slink behind the buffalo, managed to knock it off the shelf and onto my poor, unsuspecting shoulder. Unsurprisingly, it hurt like hell. That little bastard was heavy, and the edges that aren't rough were sharp, especially around the base. At first The Hubby laughed it off, until he realized I was being quiet because I was holding back tears. It hurt really bad, and it terrified me how close it had been to hitting my head instead of my shoulder. I had a cut and a giant bruise on my shoulder for days, so I wasn't seeing the humor in the situation yet.

Then I did. I mean, what's not amusing about it? I'm just sitting there minding my own business, and suddenly *buffalo!* It became the moment I thought about every time something inexplicable and ridiculous happened. Those moments where you just want to ask the universe "WHY?!", I could shrug off with "Because *buffalo*." It even became a running joke with a friend at work... Anytime things went insane, we'd just look at each other, shake our heads, then shrug our shoulders and say in a resigned voice, "Buffalo!"

Things don't have to make sense. If I can get mauled by a buffalo in my own living room, anything can happen. Because buffalo.

We still have him, by the way. He survived the flood and now I can't bear to part with him. He may be vicious, but he's a survivor, dammit, just like we are.

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