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Today is so gross!

Life can get boring. I AM NOT COMPLAINING!! I love boring! I live for boring, I crave uneventful days and having nothing to do. That’s my sole ambition in life: sit down and do nothing coz there is bugger all to do! So I am not going to complain about boring mornings. But you gotta admit, there isn’t much excitement to expect out of packing lunch, getting grumpy kids out of bed, fixing breakfast, shouting for shoes / coats / backpacks to find a taker, dragging kids into car and driving to school. Day in. Day out.

And although I am still not complaining – I swear, I am not!, some super powerful force must have misread that I was bored, and gave me a morning to remember…

It all started when I got up and felt something slushy under my feet. As I have not plugged the coffee machine next to my bed yet – but this is a very dear project of mine, I did not bother checking the floor and flopped half asleep down the stairs, leaving a trail of foot-shaped slimy prints behind me. Still on autopilot, I opened the house door to let my dog out. Surprisingly, the dog was in his basket and did not budge. Mmm, maybe he could do with a coffee as well… I don’t know about him but I surely needed to get some caffeine pumping in my system. So I made myself a nice cup and sat down to drink it, looking at my half asleep dog. As my body slowly started to wake up, I kept looking at my pet, thinking, “Something’s funny with him today”. Old guy was lying there, staring at me. He looked a little funny with his holes in his ears, like he could be wearing earrings… WHAT???? WHAT ARE THESE HOLES? OH MY GOD!! THE DOG HAS HOLES IN EACH EAR. AND OH MY!! HE IS COVERED IN BLOOD. OKAY, OKAY, OKAY, SOMETHING IS WRONG!!!

It took me a full five minutes before I spotted the holes, the blood and the generally strange feeling that something was off. Well, that surely woke me up better than any coffee. As I approached the basket, I realized that aside from the holes, the dog’s face was not bleeding. So that blood could not be his. And then, my brain neurons connected with yesterday’s memory of a groundhog lazing on our lawn. “Bloody dog had a fight with the groundhog!”

So I grabbed my shoes and started searching the garden frantically for an injured or dead groundhog. I surely did not want the kids to grab it, hug and kiss it and nurse it back to health. Better if I found it first. But no luck! Nothing. No groundhog in the garden. By then, I started to get angry with my dog for being, well, a dog! In the past, he had brought me rabbits, birds, anything that he could catch, and dropped them at my feet, waiting for his reward (which he received in the form of shouting and “get in your basket” angry look). But a groundhog, that was a first! Seriously, what was next? A deer in the kitchen? As I was making my way back to the house I started to panic, thinking there might be an injured groundhog roaming in my house. Well, yes there was! and I “ran” into it, all right! But as I screamed and shouted and totally freaked out, the thing did not move. Because it was no more. By then, I was furious at my dog for not only bringing an animal in the house, but killing it.

At least the mystery of the dog’s ears was solved…

As a responsible and composed adult who can think on her feet, I then dialed animal control to come and help with cleaning the mess. I did not want to touch that thing, dead or alive.

“I have a groundhog in my house, it’s an emergency. Please help!”

“OKay, calm down, Ma’am. Is it dead or alive?”

“Dead. I think. I don’t know. Please come”

“Then it’s not an emergency, you can take care of it yourself. Have a good day.”

WHAAATTTT!!!

It’s okay, it’s okay, I am a composed and responsible adult, whatever that means . So I did the only thing I knew: I screamed for my husband to come and “take care of it”. This was not exactly the kind of breakfast he expected, but he decided to get on with it to put an end to my hysteria. As he was “handling the package” and I was keeping at a safe distance of five miles, he shouted at me,

“OKay, I have some kind of bad news?”

How worse could it get? I did not understand.

“What is it?”

“Well, there is only half a groundhog here. The… erm… back part is missing!”

Ewwwww, so now we were searching for groundhog legs, somewhere in the house.

We did not find it. Chances are, the dog ate them for breakfast. But we did find out something: the stuff I had stepped into when I got up and dragged across the entire house floor was…. Cat puke.

And this blog is WHY I don’t want any more pets EVER.

Sorry, I cannot put a picture. Anything to do with this blog would be too gross…

 

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