Little Squirrel? Are you ok?

  Mom has been making up stories for the kids when she comes to visit.  They're about this sweet, adventurous squirrel who lives in our back yard, named Little Squirrel.

  The kids love it!  Mom's a great story teller.  I love it.  It reminds me of the stories my grandma used to make up for me about Chickory Chick, a little banty rooster.  Grandma even made up a song to go with her stories.

  Now, I have this adorable dog that I convinced The Hubby to let me adopt 9 months ago.  I love Dog (not his real name.  Naturally we were a bit more creative).  He's happy, exuberant, and care free.  He makes me happy.

  Unfortunately he also annoys me from time to time, pretty much for the same reasons that I adore him.

  

  So.  The other day Dog got out.  When he gets out of the house, there's no sense in chasing him since he's fast and has no interest in coming back with all of this freeeeeeeedom! ahead of him.

  This time while he was out, he caught a squirrel.  Gross.

  

  He decided to bring it into the garage before coming inside.  Naturally he dropped it right by the van.

  The kids and I were on our way out....and I had this dead squirrel to deal with.  In 9 years of marriage, I have discovered one of the many perks of having a husband is that he can reach into the disgusting abyss of the garbage disposal, he can kill nasty bugs (you know, crickets and other sketchy creatures), and he can remove dead animals.
  Unfortunately The Hubby wasn't home.

  I had told the kids about the squirrel, but on the way to the van, they stopped to stare at it.

  Now, you probably saw this coming, but I must admit A caught me off guard when she said "Oh No!  Dog killed Little Squirrel!"

  Really?  Of all the animals Mom chose, it had to have been a squirrel.  And of all the wild animals Dog could have killed, it had to be a squirrel.

  Thankfully I'm a quick thinker.  I promptly explained that surely it couldn't be Little Squirrel because she's way too fast for Dog.

  Whew.  Crisis averted!

  But now I had this disgusting dead animal to move. 

  Not to worry, I handled it like an adult.  I briefly contemplated leaving it there and just stepping over it until The Hubby came home in 5 hours, but ultimately decided to move it outside the garage.

I used a 4 foot-long stick to gently roll it out of the way, and I totally sissified the situation by squealing cringing, and squirming the entire time.

  ~Alexis