Why golf is not so important

    Tired from the individual tournament at Lions and a little miffed at missing that last three-foot putt on the 18th green, I carefully drove away from my parking space and down the long driveway that led out of the Lions Golf Club and there it was. Lying in the middle of the road in the scenic entrance way was a dog. Despite all my problems with my putting and my worries about how I played that day, the sight of a dead or injured dog gripped my heart strings and sent a wash of feelings of sadness cascading over me. I was familiar with that sadness because of the many dog lives that I have experienced throughout my 73 years, my most recent one was the hardest to endure. Gizmo had wandered off one afternoon and was found the next day drowned. 
      So with that sinking feeling in mind, I gradually pulled up to the lying figure until it was just in front of my car bumper so as to protect it from the car approaching from behind. The car, probably driven by another frustrated golfer leaving the scene of the crime, zoomed around me unaware of the situation unfolding before me. I had mixed emotions as I stopped the engine and prepared to open the door. I sincerely hoped that the dog was okay and only slightly injured if not at all. But the other emotion wanted the object, not moving at all, to be gone and not still alive suffering from a fatal injury. I remembered the awful feelings that accompanied one when faced with the sight of a living creature near the end. 
      I slowly exited my car and walked around to the front of my car with those tribulations inside of me. And there, cold, not moving, and silent
was a coat! 
     Yes, that's right, a coat, apparently having been blown off the back of a truck or more likely off the golf cart being hauled by a truck. So if you lost a grey-colored, slightly worn dog..........eh... I mean coat, call 512-629-7996 and ask for Sam.