Bob and I arrived in Pamplona five days before the running of the bulls. We walked to the bullring. It was, in truth, a functioning Roman amphitheater.
We found him in the Iruna
He played at the piano to keep warm
We arose and followed the forested trail into a tidy town. It was known as Burguete, or Auritz in the Basque tongue. The sun was also rising. Most everyone else was slumbering though, save a small cat that offered Bob and me a generous welcome. This self-appointed mayor circled, arched, and rubbed in as cats often do when the air is full of breakfast.
A good park for beginners
The sign at the entrance read “Home of Tree Climbing Lions.”
I thought it best to keep one eye skyward at all times. Having 400 pounds of tooth and claw fall on your head would be terrible surprise. It also would make an end to a lovely safari that Vicki and I and Mr Nixon had planned in the East African country of Tanzania.
Something awful or wonderful
“Something, or something awful or something wonderful was certain to happen on every day in this part of Africa. Every morning when you woke it was as exciting as though you were going to compete in a downhill ski race or drive a bobsled on a fast run. Something, you knew, would happen, and probably before eleven o’clock.”
