I knew I wasn't going to be able to get through even the first quarter of this year without having to fling a carcass.
That's because we live on two acres in the country and own a couple of high prey drive doggies. How high? Ivan once treed a bobcat, is how high. JoJo, she's 14 but still gives our bunnies the what for. Don't be messin' with girlfriend's lawn. Only Beaux (RIP), our big black Lab, refrained from ever catching anything. Bless his big boofie heart, he was just in it for the chase.
But these other two, they're still all fired up in good old canis lupus (not-quite familiaris) fashion about chasing shit down and stomping its guts out. Last year, it was one squirrel, two mice, and a half chewed what-I-can-only-guess was a chipmunk. The year before that, Ivan got a kitty. That was a true joy, I tell, ya, scooping that poor thing up into the shovel and walking the few yards to the fence line before I flung its limp carcass over into the neighbor's yard (My neighbor has two acres, too, and the patch that abuts my property is what I like to call "no man's land." In other words, there's nothing there but some brush and a septic tank marker. I figure, he pisses me off, letting that poor dog of his bark all day and night, I'm flinging my carcasses on his Lower 40.) At any rate, too bad, so sad. It's survival of the fittest around here. RIP kitty dude.
So this morning I went out to check the dogs' water and what did I find floating in their trough? A mouse. For a moment, I thought it may have been a rat or a chipmunk, it was so big, but maybe that was just the water log. If there's nothing worse than scooping a carcass, it's fishing out a carcass. I had to do that once with a squirrel and I tell ya, those suckers get heavy if they soak a while. But then, that's what S.B.'s trout fishing net is for.
At any rate, it's still dark, so I haven't yet flung the carcass. It is currently residing inside the shovel, on top of S.B.'s work table in the garage. I'll fling it once the sun comes up.
RIP little mouse dude.