Sometimes it's better not to ask:
Arriving home from a Sunday morning errand, our heroine opens the back door into the house. Propped up against the wall are: the cat carrier; a pair of leather gloves; and a long-handled net, normally used to haul big fish into a boat.
Husband is wiping sweat from his brow, muttering cuss words under his breath.
What should our heroine do?
a. Turn quickly and leave, retreating to a day spa for soothing distraction from whatever the situation at home is.
b. Ignore the evidence and act as if everything is perfectly normal, seeing how long it will take Husband to spill the beans?
c. Shout, "OMG! What is going on? I don't see blood, but what the hell happened?"
I really wish I would have opted for A, or maybe even B. But I must confess to C.
I won't go into a detailed explanation. Suffice it to say, Husband's new nickname is Raccoon Wrangler.
Current score: Raccoon 1, Hubby 0.
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4 comments:
ROFLMAO!!!
I was guessing the kitty brought in a live mouse. I NEVER would have guessed it was a coon. Never! This sounds more like "The adventures of KathyHowe" than KathyK's poor little hubby George!
Pictures! I wants me some pictures of Gorgeous George in his Racoon Wrangler gear! :) woohoo! Go git 'em George!
Sounds like I need to borrow George to catch my possums.
LOL! What is with critters these days?!?!? One of my neighbors just told me the crazy assed antics of a bunch of red squirrels at her cabin this past weekend.
Possum was the first thing I thought of after reading Liz's blog lately!
Darn coons!
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