Chompin' in the Pines
I trained all summer for the Highlander Chompin' Games and today was the big event. Us locals call it
"Chompin' in the Pines." There were four teams in the finals this year, and I was among them. Each team
has a Chomper (the dog) and the Chomp Recorder (the dog's human handler).
I chose my roommate Richard to be my Chomp Recorder because he is very savvy about chompin' varmints. The Chomp Recorder can verify a valid Chomp by either taking a digital picture of each Chompee or bringing the carcasses back for the judges to inspect. The other rules are simple enough.
Each team is randomly assigned a section of woods, and there is a 30 minute time limit for chompin'. Valid Chompees and their values are as follows: lizards (5 points) mice (10 points) , rats (15 points), chipmunks (20 points), and squirrels (25 points). Nothing bigger than a squirrel is allowed because we don’t want P.E.T.A. on our ass. The team with the highest score wins.
Before I tell you about the outcome of the Games, let me give you some background. Chompin' varmints is an art form. Some dogs have it, and some don't. It starts with having a keen nose, which I have. I can sniff out a varmint from 30 yards - well, maybe 10 yards. Then comes digging out the varmint and chompin' it.
My technique is unique and is the envy of all the other dogs. You see, I trained with Lee-Chow, the legendary Korean Chow Chow chompin' master. He's won every major chompin' contest known to dog. He rarely takes pupils, but he took me. He is a vicious master. My training was intense and painful. He beat the shit out of me almost every day, but he also taught me the Chomp Chomp Fu technique, which is known by only a pawful of dogs.
After training with Master Lee-Chow and recovering from all of the wounds he had inflicted on me (including a broken rib), I further developed the Chomp Chomp Fu technique until it became the Zoe Chomp Shake Fu. It's simple to explain but very difficult to execute properly.
Once you have sniffed out a varmint, you have to dig it out of a hole, tree trunk, or log. When you close in on it, it will try to make a run for it. That's when you rapidly chomp, pull it out and violently shake it back and forth. Then you drop it and chomp again. To finish it off, you do a chomp-crunch. Crunching the head gives you the most bang for your buck.
Well, back to the Games. We all started early in the day. The sun was shining, and there was no wind, which makes sniffing out the varmints easier. Within five minutes, I saw a lizard sunning on a log. Chomp! Five points. Further into the woods I got the scent of a chipmunk in a rotting tree trunk. I sprang for the tree trunk, tore into the rotten wood with my teeth, and started digging. It was in there for sure. After more digging, I was closing in. It tried to jump past me. Chomp! Shake-shake! Drop! Chomp and crunch! 20 points.
I was feeling confident. All of my training was paying off. Down the trail I sniffed another chipmunk. Dig-chomp-shake-shake-drop-chomp-crunch. 20 more points. I ended the 30 minutes with another lizard, giving me a total of 50 points. Richard took pictures; he didn't want to carry back the carcasses.
When we returned to the judges' table and presented our evidence, I was declared the winner! My closest competitor had a measly 20 points. I received a garland of fleabane put around my neck, a five-pound bag of fresh elk poop (yummy), and a trophy inscribed with "Chomp Master of the 2012 Highlander Chompin' Games." A reporter from the local paper took my picture for the morning edition. I was the chompeen, maybe the greatest chompeen there ever was.
Humanity appreciates truth about as much as a squirrel appreciates silver.
~ Vernon Howard