A Brief Encounter
I watch my shot glide to the basket on hole 18. It’s a short hole to finish the course, but treacherous. The basket is perched in front of a large boulder, and anywhere off a straight line to the basket is a precipitous drop-off. My shot lands a little short, to the left, but on the flattest line down to the basket. It’s my typical safe shot. I hop off the tee pad and collect my things. As I begin walking down the path, a little tuft of fuzz catches my eye. It’s quite still overall, but the bits of fur at the end wiggle in the light breeze. They’re mostly black, with a clear white stripe down the middle. ...