“Five, four, three, two, one!” Willie said as he exhaled with a huge sigh.  His regular foursome was watching Scheffler win again on the big screen in the golfer’s grill.

“What are you talking about Willie?” Curley questioned as his fingers combed his wavy auburn locks with both hands keeping the mid-line part perfect.  “Did you have too many beers or are you talking to yourself like some senile old man?”

Willie turned to Curley, “I was just counting down the days until we hop on the plane for Tucson.  This has been the Winter from hell.  Five days until we can wear shorts and be forced to use sunscreen.  But you were right about one thing Curley, I am getting old!  My twin grandson’s, they call me G-Willie, for Grandpa Willie, gave me a dozen Pro-Vs with ‘G-Willie’ printed on them for my 67th birthday last week.”

Pinky, with a ruby complexion and a fat shaved head chimed in as the smile on his face was growing with every word, “Willie do those balls have a phone number on them?  The bobcat who finds a G-Willie ball in the desert might want to call you to come get your ball when he figures that he can’t eat that egg with G-Willie on it.  Hey Sally, bring us one more round there might be a play-off.”

As the plane touched down at TUS, Pinky leaned forward and called to Carl across the aisle, “Hey Carl, you know the way to that great Mexican restaurant in Green Valley so you can drive.  You go get the rental Suburban while we pick up your luggage and clubs.”

“10-4 on that,” Carl barked.  “And be sure to tell your brother thanks again for giving us such a good deal on his home in Green Valley.  Not sure we could afford the rent and green fees in Scottsdale.”

The group of long-time golf buddies could not stop joking about the G-Willie balls.  With a 9:20 tee time Willie was in to the second sleeve by 10:20 on number 4.

“Hey Willie, if you are going to make a hole-in-one on this trip I hope it happens before you lose all the G-Willie balls.  Those twin boys would really be disappointed if the ball mounted on the trophy, we would get you did not have a G-Willie ball mounted on it!” Carl chuckled.

After that comment Willie started searching a little longer and harder for his stray shots.

On the fourth and final day the group had a 7:50 tee time so they could catch their mid-afternoon plane.  The starter was a real character.  He started his pre-round speech: “Well boys I just want you to know that I would not suggest you go into the desert searching for your stray golf balls.  Everything in the desert bites, scratches, or stings.  Just drop one in the fairway, I will find those new Pro-Vs later today.”  The golf buddies got a big chuckle.

Then Pinkie said, “Hey Willie, show the ranger that last G-Willie ball.  Better use a Sharpie to put your phone number on it so the starter can save it for you until next year.”

On the 16th hole Willie ricocheted G-Willie off a big Saguaro Cactus deep into the nasty desert, where everything bites, scratches, or stings.  Curley stopped the golf cart near the big Saguaro and joked, “Willie you are on your own chasing that one.  I am tired of hunting those G-Willie balls.  The only balls we ever find are those damn Top Flights.”

Willie disappeared into the brush.

About 5 minutes had passed when Pinky and Carl doubled back to Curley’s cart.  Pinky laughed as he said, “Do you think we should go searching for Willie?  He could get lost out there.  Let’s not holler at him. Maybe we can sneak up on him and scare the shit out of him.”

The trio silently slipped into the desert.

About thirty yards into the brush, they spotted Willie stranding very still, his back to them with his vision fixed on something.  Silently Willie raised his left hand with fingers spread (the universal signal to halt). Then he made a forward motion with his index finger (come forward with caution).

Six eyes followed Willie’s about 20 yards into a clearing where a Bobcat held a freshly killed Jack Rabbit securely in its jaws.  A low growl came from the Bobcat!   It faced off with a scruffy looking Coyote, who slowly circled the Bobcat and his kill.

“Who do you think will win?” Pinky whispered.

A long minute passed as the volume grew each time the Coyote moved closer.  Then the Bobcat froze as three more Coyotes formed a box around the Bobcat.  The cat released its kill as it charged a Coyote and slapped the canine across the nose.  Too late, the nearest Coyote snatched the rabbit as his two buddies formed a defense.  In a split second it was over.

Willie held up his G-Willie ball, I still have one for that hole-in-one on 17.