At 3am this morning, I was being poked and prodded out of a very deep, peaceful sleep. I gained consciousness enough to see and hear the lovely Mrs Bob telling me that Snowball, our 6# Maltese was barking furiously in the back yard and although our yard is very well lit, he was barking between the house and guest house and my wife couldn’t get a good look at what was going on. Now, since Snowball acts mean and tough, but is the biggest four legged chicken we have ever seen, we figured he had cornered a baby rabbit, chipmunk or some other small critter, possibly a large bug of some sort. Past experience tells us that it has to be smaller than Snowball and probably blind and crippled or he would have run for cover. I noticed my dog, Misha the 95# Akita is still asleep on her dog bed, oh, she lifted her head to look at the yapping little dog, but then put it back down to resume her slumber.
By now Mrs Bob is clad in her best defensive battle gear consisting of her big rubber boots and her wooly blue housecoat. Oh, and sweatsocks. She never travels into the yard in the winter without her sweatsocks. I am thinking stun gun, maybe revolver, maybe even shotgun, but Mrs Bob is heading out the backdoor and has grabbed the ultimate defensive weapon. Her designer umbrella, something is going to get seriously poked or remain seriously dry until the authorities arrive. My first thought was to grab my pants and head out after her, but then I realized that if I were to get injured or catch a chill she would never forgive herself. So I remained inside and gave supporting gestures through the locked window. I also kept Snowball inside because I probably couldn’t handle the trauma of the dog getting injured.
Mrs Bob soon returned to the house and informed me that it wasn’t a cat, but a possum. Not just a possum, but Frankenpossum, this thing was huge. She said if it doesn’t weigh thirty seven and a half pounds she would eat my hat. Now, my wife tends to exaggerate when it comes to measurements. I have to accept responsibility for that flaw because from the time we were first married, I have led her astray on how to measure things properly. I also didn’t want to prove her wrong because I have only two hats and I am fond of both of them.
She was heading for the door the second time to try and shoo away Frankenpossum because her yapping dog would wake all the neighbors. When all the neighbors were awake someone would call the cops. When the cops came they would take a report. When the cops took a report and called it in, all the awakened, nosey neighbors, who have police scanners, would know that Mrs Bob was outside in her rubber boots and wooly blue housecoat threatening a big possum with a big umbrella. Not the sort of thing you want on your resume.
By now I was awake enough to string a few words together and mentioned that we could bring Snowball in, lock the doggie door, go back to bed,and Frankenpossum would likely be gone by morning. This plan worked like a charm.
However there is justice in the world. Upon rising this morning I noticed Frankenpossum laying dead in the road in front of the house and since our big umbrella was where it is supposed to be and appeared to be in good condition, I figured Frankenpossum was probably a victim of a vicious hit and run.
I can’t make this stuff up.
Epilogue:
A neighbor has since removed Frankenpossum, arrangements are pending.
By now Mrs Bob is clad in her best defensive battle gear consisting of her big rubber boots and her wooly blue housecoat. Oh, and sweatsocks. She never travels into the yard in the winter without her sweatsocks. I am thinking stun gun, maybe revolver, maybe even shotgun, but Mrs Bob is heading out the backdoor and has grabbed the ultimate defensive weapon. Her designer umbrella, something is going to get seriously poked or remain seriously dry until the authorities arrive. My first thought was to grab my pants and head out after her, but then I realized that if I were to get injured or catch a chill she would never forgive herself. So I remained inside and gave supporting gestures through the locked window. I also kept Snowball inside because I probably couldn’t handle the trauma of the dog getting injured.
Mrs Bob soon returned to the house and informed me that it wasn’t a cat, but a possum. Not just a possum, but Frankenpossum, this thing was huge. She said if it doesn’t weigh thirty seven and a half pounds she would eat my hat. Now, my wife tends to exaggerate when it comes to measurements. I have to accept responsibility for that flaw because from the time we were first married, I have led her astray on how to measure things properly. I also didn’t want to prove her wrong because I have only two hats and I am fond of both of them.
She was heading for the door the second time to try and shoo away Frankenpossum because her yapping dog would wake all the neighbors. When all the neighbors were awake someone would call the cops. When the cops came they would take a report. When the cops took a report and called it in, all the awakened, nosey neighbors, who have police scanners, would know that Mrs Bob was outside in her rubber boots and wooly blue housecoat threatening a big possum with a big umbrella. Not the sort of thing you want on your resume.
By now I was awake enough to string a few words together and mentioned that we could bring Snowball in, lock the doggie door, go back to bed,and Frankenpossum would likely be gone by morning. This plan worked like a charm.
However there is justice in the world. Upon rising this morning I noticed Frankenpossum laying dead in the road in front of the house and since our big umbrella was where it is supposed to be and appeared to be in good condition, I figured Frankenpossum was probably a victim of a vicious hit and run.
I can’t make this stuff up.
Epilogue:
A neighbor has since removed Frankenpossum, arrangements are pending.
i read the post twice.
