Huh. More mystery poop in the garage. Farmer H swears it is the product of the cats. I think not. The cats have not pooped in the garage for the past ten years. Gosh! Are our cats that old? They might even be older! But they have not pooped in the garage, ever. Vomit, yes. Many a time. But poop? No.
I think it's a raccoon or a possum. I snapped photographic phone evidence of the latest excrement. I even looked up poop pictures courtesy of my BFF Google. The evidence is inconclusive. I only have two turds. Too bad I didn't get a picture of that last pile. The other samplings were fairly meager, a turd here, a turd there, along the garage wall. By my T-Hoe of course. Once I gurgled out that bleach, that area was clear. Until this morning, when the turds appeared NEXT TO an area I had bleached. But that last pile was surrounded by a lake of urine. Still, not near as smelly as cat output. I think Farmer H is mistaken. Good taste prevents me from subjecting you to the evidence. But let me describe it. I swear it has segments like a big ol' Tootsie Roll. About the diameter of a penny. The previous turds were a bit thicker. Have you had enough?
In keeping with my gorge-rising subject...just exactly WHAT is this crap?
It was on T-Hoe's door, the part that closes into the body proper. It's a mysterious entity in its own self. White. Fibrous. Too creepy. I nabbed a select-a-size and a ziploc, took my photo, then scraped it off and hermetically sealed it. AND WASHED MY HANDS with hot water and lye soap. Not really. Sure, we have hot water. But I'm not hillbilly enough to make lye soap. Who do you think I am, Granny Clampett?
I swear. Hillmomba sure is a nasty place. Even for a science teacher.