As you know, a few weeks ago I sent the Nearly Perfect Husband and Gabe, the Self-Proclaimed Perfect Boy, to the emergency vets in the middle of the night because, just as they were going to bed (I was already in bed, but… well, you can read it here).
Well, the other night I was walking in the yard with the dogs for Last Potty Before Bed (a formal ritual requiring appropriate capitalization) and, sure enough, I hear some growling and a scuffle out of my sight in the dark.
I call to the dogs and Blaze comes right back – of course she does.
Marshal Dillon Dingle does not – of course he doesn’t.
And Blaze is looking at me in the moonlight and I see a single, large porcupine quill hanging from her nose.
And all the time I can hear Marshal Dillon Dingle growling and woofing, and I am sure he is all puffed up and looking fierce but I also know he is a chicken.
So finally he comes back and I don’t even look at him.
I totally do the parent thing where I make a humph sound and say, “come with me” super stern-like and we walk back inside and this is what I see:
So I now know, per the emergency visit to the vet a couple of weeks ago, that this is totally minor (none in his mouth or eyes) and I know how to remove the quills and Marshal has a date with me, a headlock, and some pliers. Then he is all fine and he gets cheese (Blaze too), and we head up to bed.
So, of course, each time we go out now we have to check out the site of the Great Porcupine Stand-off of 2015 and Marshal has to go on and on about where he found the porcupine and how puffed up and scary he was as he approached the porcupine.
Seriously, it could go on all day.
So, sure enough, this morning when I opened the door, the ShepHerds dashed to the site of the Stand Off and the whole thing began anew.
I was looking all around at the little apples that had fallen from our tree and some of them are only cores.
And my brain immediately registered that birds absolutely poke around at apples but they cannot really eat a whole apple and make a perfect apple core…
So I walk over to our little apple tree and look up.
So I walk around a little more, looking at the ground, the ShepHerds oblivious to my actions as they hop here and there recreating The Standoff (okay, Marshal Dillon Dingle was recreating. Blaze was carrying her tennis ball in her mouth and, I swear, rolling her eyes).
And I look up again.
And then I look closer.
And then I tell the ShepHerds we need to head inside quietly (nice try on my part), just for a second. And they come in with me and I grab my camera and head back out to the apple core littered little apple tree.
I quietly remove my lens cap, the SpepHerds happily explore the yard and await my legendary ball-throwing skills.
Ladies and gentlemen….
Marshal says he was a lot bigger in the dark.
Thanks for readin’.
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