He walked tall, that Rusty Whiskers, said what he meant and meant what he said.
Devoted to doing the right, if not popular, thing, while spreading peace, love, and
Fried shrimp across this massive land. His life a benevolent mystery, marked by epic
Climbs to far off mountaintop gurus. The meaning of life intertwined with the taste
Of beef jerky and dried sunflower seeds. A brief dance with cocaine kept him humble,
Unaddicted, but slightly paranoid. Always up for a good story; always there for the
Woman he loves. His pottery and her signs bringing enlightenment to the masses.
Several days ago the words “Rusty Whiskers” popped into my mind. I rolled the words around trying to decide what needed to be done with them. Then, lo and behold, I meet a man named Rusty and his lovely lady, Sherry. It seemed like a sign.
I’m pretty sure Rusty Whiskers will appear in future posts. That name is just too great to let go.
Praying for Eyebrowz 
And, is the real Rusty a potter?
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Most of the poem is fictional, but Rusty is a potter.
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Rusty Whiskers is a great name. It makes me thing of some wise and wizened old cowboy, for some reason.
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He needs his own series of adventures, I think. Rusty Whiskers at the Alamo. Rusty Whiskers Swims the English Channel…
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Absolutely! Of course, he’d have to do all those heroic things in a suitably gruff and grizzled way. 🙂
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Of course.
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