I take my job very seriously. I care for my household. My husband, my children, the landscaping, garden, general cleanliness, preparation of medicinal herbs, schooling. I do my best in all arenas. This weekend I took home the wife championship title.
I killed the squirrel who ate through our dishwasher.
The squrriel who scampered across the ceiling between the family room vaulted wood planks and the second floor. The squirrel who brought anger, tears, defeat and fear. The squirrel who walked around rat traps and laughed at them. That squirrel, I killed him.
I wasn't ready to gut this rodent and make him dinner, not yet. Next time I will have a sharp knife ready.
Squirrel, it's what's for dinner.
*Before anyone reads this and freaks out, I used a pump action Daisy BB gun. It took three dramatic shots, individual reloads and the squirrel falling from the tree. Noah watched as Michael held his hand. No human or pet was ever in any danger. Buster is a little more of a man now, however.*