Saturday, February 27, 2016
Monday, February 22, 2016
Sunday, February 21, 2016
The Sad Saga Of Rocky Raccoon
Ok.
So, some dumbass (me) left the garage door open a few nights ago.
The next morning I find shit and piss all over the place and a raccoon and a cat holed up in my garage.
I persuade the cat to leave, but Rocky will have none of it. He has gorged himself on dry cat chow and is fat and happy and has taken up refuge in my gutted, derelict 1968 Chevelle project car from hell.
Rocky's a big motherfucker, and he doesn't want to leave.
Fuck.
I really don't want to hurt the dumb-ass critter because I am a man of peace like Gandhi or Mandela and all of God's creatures are sacred.
So I call up a work buddy to see if he has a live trap I can borrow. He does, and I go over and get it. The trap looks a little too small, but Rocky hasn't eaten in a couple of days and I figure he's gonna be getting desperate and he just might try to force his fat ass into the trap for some free goodies.
I bait the trap with canned cat food and put it in the trunk of the Chevelle. Rocky's in the passenger compartment, but since there is no interior he can move freely from there to the closed trunk space.
Well, this morning I get up to check the trap, and this is what I see when I go outside.
Somehow, Rocky escaped the car and tried to wedge himself under the garage door and got stuck so tightly that he probably asphyxiated himself. He was cold and stiff and very much graveyard dead.
Fuck.
I tried to do the right thing and be humane, and the ignant motherfucker offed himself.
Stoopid. You shoulda taken the deal. Now look atcha. All dead an' shit...
I am sorry, Rocky.
So, some dumbass (me) left the garage door open a few nights ago.
The next morning I find shit and piss all over the place and a raccoon and a cat holed up in my garage.
I persuade the cat to leave, but Rocky will have none of it. He has gorged himself on dry cat chow and is fat and happy and has taken up refuge in my gutted, derelict 1968 Chevelle project car from hell.
Rocky's a big motherfucker, and he doesn't want to leave.
Fuck.
I really don't want to hurt the dumb-ass critter because I am a man of peace like Gandhi or Mandela and all of God's creatures are sacred.
So I call up a work buddy to see if he has a live trap I can borrow. He does, and I go over and get it. The trap looks a little too small, but Rocky hasn't eaten in a couple of days and I figure he's gonna be getting desperate and he just might try to force his fat ass into the trap for some free goodies.
I bait the trap with canned cat food and put it in the trunk of the Chevelle. Rocky's in the passenger compartment, but since there is no interior he can move freely from there to the closed trunk space.
Well, this morning I get up to check the trap, and this is what I see when I go outside.
Fuck.
I tried to do the right thing and be humane, and the ignant motherfucker offed himself.
Stoopid. You shoulda taken the deal. Now look atcha. All dead an' shit...
I am sorry, Rocky.
Thursday, February 18, 2016
Friday, February 12, 2016
Questions
Being armed doesn't equate to being violent.
Being armed isn't violent until a trigger is pulled.
Being armed is prudent and proper and polite.
Be polite.