I gazed in plumb amazement! Talk about the dangest luck. Some stupid clunk had rubbed some dirt ‘long side my Chevy truck.

He’d roughed up all the paint and tried to wipe the windows clean. I hoped he chawed tobacco, gulped a chew, and turned to green.

I moseyed back inside and asked the wife to take a look. While I’m thinking paint replacement with a flattened pocketbook.

With my wife at side, we made a beeline for the carport door. I gave the door a swing and dang near fell flat on the floor.

A moose’s hairy butt was staring inches from my face. I backed away and slammed the door and gave the old gal space.

Some say a moose is ugly but up close to their rear end, gives new meaning to “Butt Ugly.” Caused me trauma that won’t mend.

Soon, I recognized old Molly, a familiar moose out here. She was licking on the salt my truck had gathered up this year.

I yelled out from the window but that didn’t do the trick. She weren’t about to leave. She’d found a giant-sized salt lick.

I must admit old Molly Moose was stubborn to the core. So, I kept my wits about me and declared a “Cow Moose War.”

I envisioned moose hamburgers and steaks two inches thick. But old Molly was so skinny. Bet her meat had forty tick.

My wife was yelling at the moose, then Molly looked her way. I leaped out through the window, to the truck, backed it away.

The look that Molly shot me is still messing with my head. ‘Cuz if looks could kill, I’d surely be the colder side of dead.

The declared war ain’t over, but is Molly keeping track? She’s the price to pay when living where wild game’s right at your back.