Last Minute Pardon

Remember a while ago when Hubby was trying to catch the groundhog that's making Swiss cheese out of our porches? We ended up catching 5 possums and called it a day. Well, for Father's Day we visited his dad and took the cage again. We set it up Sunday night. Monday when I got home the groundhog was in the trap.

Bean sprouts. Who knew?

I was so excited to have caught the little shit that I jumped out of my car and started screaming, "HA! We got you you little fucker! Oh, I am going to make you suffer, bwa-ha-ha ha-ha...oh, neighbors." I took the cage around back so I could berate it in private. I let the dog out to bark and lunge at it. I have to say groundhogs have spirit. He didn't cower in the corner at all, but lunged right back.

How would we kill it was the question. Would we drown it? Freeze it to death in our deep-freeze? Pour gas on it and light it up? Hack it to pieces? Shove a pointy stick between it's ears and stab it's brain? Ooooooo, how, oh how, would we do it in? I poked at it with a letter opener I found until Hubby got home. While he gazed at the fruit of his labors I went through our sharp yard tools.

So what did we do?

Hubby took it across the river into Illinois and let it go.

Oh, I know, the disappointment was bitter in my mouth. All the time, all those bags of concrete and man hours getting all those holes filled. All that pent up frustration and HE LET IT GO! I went along for the ride and took the crowbar just in case the little shit came at us once we let it go. It didn't. It took off like a brown streak and disappeared. (Secretly I am hoping it finds its was back and gets caught in the trap again, because then I will kill it before Hubby gets home.)

So all you furry critters who live in my neighborhood and have Internet access BEWARE! I have an unsatisfied blood-lust and I'm not afraid to use it.