Even so...it's just a picture. Imagine Mrs. Hillbilly Mom yesterday afternoon, heading out to the front porch to send a picture of her missing debit card from her phone to her email. A picture to share with her loyal blog buddies. A picture that can't be sent from inside the Mansion due to a poor phone connection. Oh, I'd like to blame that metal roof that Farmer H had installed. But sadly, we've had this reception problem even with shingles.
There I was, my bifocals perched upon my nose, both hands busy sending that photo to myself. I don't walk well in bifocals, and I don't send emails by phone well without them. I know where I am in my own Mansion. I don't have to look at the floor. There's no surprise steps or cracks or rug wrinkles to trip me up. I know where the door jamb is. Know enough to step up and over, not shuffle my feet, which, thankfully, were still in my going-to-town shoes, and not clad only in socks before donning my red Crocs for the trip to my dark basement lair.
Yes, I was walking along, eyes and hands on phone. I opened up the front door and stepped out onto the porch. Hit SEND. Stood at the top of the steps, waiting for my picture to appear in my IN box. Tra la la. Takes about 1-2 minutes, best case scenario. I was glad the dogs were with Farmer H over at the BARn. I don't like it when they assume it's time for the evening snack at 2:20 in the afternoon, just because I'm on the front porch. That's why I stand by the steps, and don't go plop my plump rumpus on the pew where snacking occurs.
Okay! Got my picture. I turned to go back inside, my bifocals now shoved up on top of my head, and saw THIS!
SWEET GUMMI MARY!!!
I know that picture is taken from INSIDE the house. Here's the deal. I saw that carcass laying there, and my stomach lurched, and I thought, "Sweet Gummi Mary! What if I'd been in my sock feet, the socks with the holes in the sole (!), and stepped out the door onto that bloody mess?"
I darted back inside and slammed the door. Well. As much as you can slam it by turning the doorknob so it will latch. Because Farmer H has still not fixed that doorknob after many months of suggestion. Whew! That was a close one! I think I was leaning my back against the door, breathing deeply, when I thought,
"That's a blog post!"
Yes. Mrs. Hillbilly Mom never lets any hideous, heinous display of dismemberment go to waste.
Looks like the dogs caught a chipmunk and relieved him of his skin. I first thought it was a squirrel, but upon closer inspection of the pelt from the porch side of the body, I saw the thin white stripe down the side. Uh huh. Chipmunk. Or, as some Hillmomba natives call it, a ground squirrel.
There is no love lost between me and chipmunks. I had an unfortunate attempted-rescue faux pas with one many years ago, right out in the front yard. So pardon me if I don't weep for this victim.
Do you think my fleabags were bringing ME a snack?
6 comments:
Wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute.
That pinkish thing on the right is the innards? Your dogs neatly skinned that chipmunk?
If so, they are quite talented pups.
Sioux,
That's the best I could identify it! It's the wrong color to be poop, and too solid to be vomit! For all I know, it could be some kind of alien that was riding on the back of the chipmunk, slowing it down as it tried to escape death.
How sweet of your puppies to bring you a snack for a change.
I'm not at all queasy and several years ago in my former home, I spotted a giant mess on the roadside at least a 100 metres long, it was pig entrails that had tipped and spread when a truck misjudged the corner and his load shifted. He'd been coming from the abbatoir, going who knows where, probably shipping stuff to a pet food company. It was a main road and the stench on that hot day was, let's say remarkable, or memorable. I was very close to home, the mess went along the road right past my driveway, so I sprinted in and got the camera, "aha!" says me. "blog post!"
I think it was 2011.
River,
Well, you can never let an opportunity like that go to waste! And like Genius says, "Pics or it didn't happen!"
This is why I always wear shoes and expect anything when I open my back door. I feel lucky that the cat does not deliver his gifts at the office door. Might be bad for business.
Kathy,
This evening I started back inside from snacking the dogs, and saw that the pink thing was a bit flatter. Farmer H was inside to take the heat.
"I see you didn't shovel that thing off the porch like you said, last night when you picked up the chipmunk by the tail and threw it out into the yard. Now it's FLAT! I hope I didn't step on it going out."
"Oh. I forgot. It's cat food."
"How could they hack up a LOG like that?"
"I don't know. I'll clean it up tomorrow."
We'll see, won't we...
Now I'm wondering whose shoe it is on, and how much of it is now on my carpet.
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