Theo, Ice Age Fossils and Gold-Part 2

 We're still at Gold Daughters and have wandered to other side of the place with the geodesic dome in the distance.

Gold. Who doesn't want a pocket full of gold? Who hasn't heard the stories of settlers going west in search of gold? And, maybe, just maybe, you've tried your hand at panning for gold.

Gold Daughters boast that there's gold in these there hills. Actually, they don't talk that way at all. They're two rather sophisticated ladies who know they have gold on their land. And they're making money off of that fact.

People can arrive, get a quick lesson on how to pan for gold and then pay to do just that---swirl some muck in your pan with just the right amount of water and at the right angle--because they'll tell you that gold weighs more than dirt and will sink to the bottom of your pan. Tiny flecks of gold. 

Really?

Theo has no interest in gold. He'd rather mooch around outside--even though it has begun to drizzle--and sniff his way around while Dan and I sit at a table and pan for gold. 

The motivating story is that a guy showed up a while back, paid for his time and walked away with about $200,000 worth of gold. It didn't happen all at once. I think he stayed about a week and really worked hard. 

Dan and I swirl and swirl. We see nothing in the bottom of our pan. One of the Gold daughters comes over and helps. She tilts the pan a little, adds some more water and then when we whoosh away the dirt, we see something.

It's the tiniest bit of something you can possibly see. If you don't do it right, you'll swish that gold right out of your pan. She helps us not do anything that stupid. At the end of it all, we put our gold specks together and empty them into a plastic container. 

Our plan is to take the precious gold home and leave it on our bedroom dresser. For a rainy day. Or stare at it. Remember. 

Meanwhile, Theo is soaked to the bone. He's had enough. 

"Don't ask," I warn him. 

He tilts his head in that enquiring and endearing way he has.

I hold up the container. Cats have great far eyesight and lousy close up vision. I have to hold the container in the air as he looks at it from a distance.

"The gold is in the bottom of the container," I explain.

He squints.

"Nevermind."

His paws are dirty. His fur is drenched. But he's not complaining. And he's not particularly interested in the gold. 

"Theo, look at you," Dan says.

"I think he had a bit too much fun," I add.

Dan laughs. But all Theo can do is give us the evil eye while we wrap him in a towel to dry off. 

Later, of course, once we're home with our plastic container of gold safely on our dresser . . .

we discover Theo with the container under his nose sniffing. Really?

Typical for a gangster cat to want to cash in on our gold!