Here's how it happened...
Since I am a dog lover, part of my weekly routine is to put on a pair of latex gloves and go around the back yard picking up after my dogs. It's not my favorite job, but it must be done if we want to enjoy the backyard, since we have two dogs and a small yard. I usually pick up the yard, and then cut the grass. I had picked up the entire yard when I began to reach for the last pile of browness...and I unexpectedly noticed the browness was a giant dead mouse. I screamed like a girl. I dropped my bag. I ran around the yard kicking and scream and trying to shake the fear out of me.
My husband came outside to check on the commotion I told him there's a dead mouse in the grass that I almost touched. It scared me. I didn't want to pick it up. He didn't want to pick it up. So my husband went inside to ask our visiting friend Del to go remove the dead mouse from the backyard.
I thought about this. Del is fearless. I was certain he'd come pick it up. But I also don't like that a dead animal can send me into an uncontrollable noisy disturbance. I had pet hamster named Oreo growing up. What's to be scared of? I can do this. I went to the garage and found the shovel with the longest handle. (Note to self: research if they make shovels with telescoping handles.) I try to do things that scare me...to ensure my life stays interesting. I held on to the very, very end of the shovel.
Del arrived in our back yard, with a gloved hand, ready to take care of business the moment I was scooping up our dead friend.
"That ain't no mouse. That's a f#cking rat." Del stated as he helped me jimmy the dead guy into the sack. I squirmed. Del was right. This creature was the size of chihuahua with a tail as long as a grass snake. Yikes. A rat!
I guess this explains the blood I found on Trigger earlier. He had blood on his face, but he didn't have any cuts. Our son is a hunter. And I am not afraid of rats. (As long as they are dead and I have my long shovel.)
That's a great story!
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