Squirrel popsicle

Summary haiku:

A gift from my son:
Dead squirrel traumatized me
on frigid morning.


Every morning around 6 a.m., I let the pets out to tinkle and whatnot. Unfortunately, I have to physically take them because the side door in our rental house doesn't connect to the fenced back yard.

This morning, Archie was taking his sweet time, preoccupied with something near the back fence. He wouldn't do what he was there to do, and it was cold as shit outside, so I finally called him over. He proudly scurried over carrying something in his mouth. It was dark, so I couldn't really see what it was, but I assumed it was a tennis ball or one of the other dogs toys in the yard.

Before we went inside, I told him to spit it out. It fell to the concrete porch with a dull thud. To my horror, the porch light illuminated what he had: a frozen, partially dismantled squirrel carcass. I looked away as quickly as possible, but it was hard not to notice that the thing was practically inside out.

And Archie just looked up at me and wagged his little stump of a tail, smiling with his eyes.

I have no words...

Summary haiku:
When I die, I want
all my pets to die with me.
Judge Judy outs me.



So, I was sitting here eating my dinner and reading a book, only halfway listening to the TV. But when I heard the madness going down on Judge Judy, I had to shift my focus.

This old man was suing an animal rescue owner because she wouldn't give him back a dog that he'd given up for adoption. Judge Judy put the kibash on that and here's why:

The man in question had been living with an old lady, his companion. When she died, her last wishes were to have her 17 Chihuahuas euthenized and cremated and buried with her in a pet cemetary. (Yes, she herself wanted to be buried in the pet cemetary as well.)
So, this guy did that with 9 of her dogs!

I don't know who's crazier, the dead dog lady or this moron who killed 9 pooches. Anyway, Judge Judy let him have it and I laughed.

Old bag

Summary haiku:

Thirty-fifth birthday.
My youth is up in smoke, like
Snoop Dogg's Philly blunt.

Nathaniel Arnold Sr. was probably a very interesting man

Maybe I got this from my dearly departed grandpa, Pop-Pop. Or maybe it's because I spent some time writing obituaries when I worked at the newspaper in Spokane. But no matter where I live, I always peruse the obits in each day's paper.

Pop-Pop used to do this, but mostly it was so that he could feel triumphant. He'd scan the page, see a name he recognized, and exclaim, "I outlived another son of a bitch!" Then he'd proceed to offer a brief description of the acquaintance as he swelled with pride that he was still kicking.

So I thought of Pop-Pop today when I saw this name on the obit page: Nathaniel "Hot Sausage" Arnold, Sr., 80. Oh, how I wished I knew how the Sausage got his nickname! At 80, did people still call him that? If so, I think that's pretty awesome. I wonder how many of his friends that Hot Sausage outlived. His obit was quite basic and didn't give much detail about his life, other than that he was an Army veteran and a member of Hill Street Baptist Church. But his obit -- that moniker -- screams from the page, and even though I don't know him, I think that's what he would have wanted.

I hope by the time I'm old, I have a magnificent (perhaps inappropriate) nickname that will accompany my name in the paper and make people wonder: Where the hell did she pick up that name? She must have had a fun life.

Sadly, Pop-Pop's ultimate goal was to outlive Ronald Reagan, who shared PP's Feb. 6 birthday. Pop-Pop abhored Republicans, but especially, for some reason, Reagan. Probably had a lot to do with birthday-sharing.

Anyway, Pop-Pop passed away June 2, 2004. And can you believe it? Reagan died three days later.

Almost, Pop-Pop. Almost.