Jon and I are apparently on a mission to ensure that we scare people away from our home forever.
When Jon came home from work on Wednesday night, he had a little, cute, tiny kitten tucked in his coat pocket. She was such a nice little kitty cat. He’d found her along the side of the road on his way home from work. He took her out and made her a little home in the fur shed to make sure she would be safe from our dogs. So Tresia and her little guy Aaron came over later that evening, and knowing that Aaron loves kittens, I told him that we had a new little kitty outside; he asked Jon to take him out to see it.
Never once did it cross my mind that coon hunting season has begun…
…which meant that the “fur shed” was full of…well, furs…and dead coons…and the remains of dead coons…
…basically, it’s a child’s nightmare come to life. (OK, it’s an adult’s nightmare come to life, as well. It’s REALLY yucky out there.) Lovely.
Despite that horrific experience, they came over again yesterday (with Aaron telling Tresia on the way over: “They have a nice kitty, but I don’t think I want to go out to see her again. It’s really creepy out there.”).
As we were outside sanding a bunch of projects, Tresia sat herself down on the grass and sanded about 349 boards.
Then she stood up and realized that she’d been sitting on top of a thistle weed thing and had about 2395 stickers in her bottom.
I really wanted to take a picture of it, because she kind of reminded me of a cartoon character with all those stickers in her hiney. However, she was not supportive of having the moment memorialized with a photograph. Imagine that.
So if you want to make sure that people never return to your house again, scare their children to death with dead animals and put stickers in their bottoms.