My wife’s first husband died in the barn one day when the old mare suffered a heart attack and fell on top of him. They found his body when the bone man winched her out of the stall. A year later she married a traveling Bible salesman and moved to Florida. Things went well until the salesman was eaten by a shark one night while skinny dipping with a young waitress from the Flamingo Bar and Grill. Normally I’m not a superstitious person but shortly after my wife told me the story of her life I sold the big cats and we left the circus for good.