i am soooo busted.
feel like senator craig, republican from idaho,
except I'M gonna fess up.
@ about 1:30 am I was sitting at my desk when I realized that eebler-kay*,
our 12 yr old 12 # min pin was sitting behind me.
She began whining and obviously wanted to go "out".
I always carry her out at night so I can survey the night activity in the yard
before I release her into the wild.
We have a lot of coons prowling about.
I observed for several minutes and then set the little dog down,
what I didn't see was the 40# coon frozen under the outside table.
eebler-kay hadn't missed this.
Next to the back door I keep a short handled, diamond shaped hoe.
Dog attacked coon, coon returned fire all hell broke loose.
The fucking hoe was gone, enda-glay decided to put it AWAY.
This was not a good match and the outcome would be worse,
eebler-kay has no fear. She was outsized but not out quicked.
She is incredibly fast and an exceptionally efficient killer.
The coon was big and very pissed.
I was unarmed but would defend that dog to my death.
I also have a limited sense of fear.
Hell I can't even get to the dentist.
Dog grabbed coon, coon missed dog,
I grabbed the bastard by the tail and slammed it into the tree.
Lost my grip and the dog attacked again.
Coon is really pissed now. The dog is yelping in pain.
I am now furious and in kill mode.
I grabbed the sob by the back of the neck and rammed it's head into the tree again.
enda-glay has appeared, In pj top & skivvies.
She grabs eeb-kay and heads for the house.
I am now one on one with a very very angry coon.
In the int-clay Eastwood-way movies, ie Good Bag Ugly,
when ever he spit someone died, I spit.
I beat that fucking son of a bitch to death.
I am so wound up I may never go to bed,
enda-glay is now playing solitaire on the computer, can't sleep.
enda-glay got up because she forgot to take her bike off the car rack,
it was already in the garage. then went to the kitchen for a drink.
We had a heart to heart about removing my weapons.
The little dog is sleeping on her pillow with a sock,
unscathed & unmarked. dreaming about her great adventure.
I have a coon for the trash on Friday.
My wrist and forearm are sore from the beating that coon took.
[* all names have been changed to protect the identity of, well, someone.]
. . .
well, here's the truth:
there was NO raccoon on the road south of woodward.
i made it up.
i was the raccoon in the story above.
i received this mysterious, anonymous email today.
obviously, someone knows the sordid truth.
MY sordid truth:
i am the min pin slasher.
my m.o.: lure them out into the country, then, well, my friends did it.
i'll admit it.
i hate the little dogs.
i don't know why, i just do. they're so . . . so . . . small!
i want to apologize to all the kids, and grown-up triathletes,
who have considered me a role model.
my actions have been immature.
i guess i need to grow up.