It Wasn’t The Cat!

There have been new developments in Tulip Carnage 2010.

The destruction in my garden last month caused me to instantly morph into a man well beyond my years, shaking a gnarled fist at the neighborhood cats. “Damn you cats!”

But they always return to the scene of the crime, don’t they? The real culprit showed up and looked me in the eye as I watched it bend a tulip, bite into its sweet center, and rip the head off the stalk.

Yes, it was the fucking squirrel:

bastard squirrelI asked my dad about it and he said, “Well son, of course it’s them squirrels. They want them nuts is what they want!”

“Yeah, but can I do anything to stop him?”

“Sure. Here’s what you do: buy a big bag of nuts.”


“You go out there and you wait. When you see him, throw him a nut. He’ll take it and go bury it in someone else’s yard. Do that until all them nuts is gone. You’ll tire him out!”




Well it just so happened that I was out on the patio the other day, and I caught this very same rodent sitting in the bushes. Watching. Eying me. Sizing me up. We stared at each other for a good minute.

I grabbed a pebble and hurled it at the little bastard, but he thought it was a nut. Idiot! That wasn’t going to work.

So I reached for the hose and doused him.

Haven’t seen him since.

All charges will now be dropped against the cat, aka Little Miss Flower Killer and a full apology will be issued for calling her a motherfucker.



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