Thursday, January 12, 2012

The Godfather... UK version

It was a beautiful day in the neighborhood, the sun peeking through the clouds and a temp in the low 50s.  Heck, that's almost swimsuit and shorts weather around here.  I had to take the little beast out for his noon potty break and was throwing the obnoxious orange squeaky ball that he loves to fetch.  All was well in the world as I had poop scooped yesterday and didn't have to watch every step I was making.

After the bird incident (Dead Dove 2012) of last week, I was surprised to notice a small gathering of downy little feathers near the back of the yard next to some landscaped hedges.  I threw the ball for Ollie to distract him and walked over to take a look, thinking that I must be really oblivious because I thought I had picked up all evidence from the bird slaying last week.  

As I was walking to take a gander at the feathers, I stepped over what I initially thought was a chunk of stick that had fallen off one of the large trees which rim the yard.  Last week we had some winds gusting into the 40-50 mph range and the lawn service guys haven't made it out yet to clean up the bits of debris.  I did a double take, however, when I saw that the "stick" had a beak.  Upon closer inspection, I realized it was the head of another dead bird.  Lovely, just lovely.

I know it's a bit gruesome to include a pic, but I just couldn't help myself.  It immediately brought to mind that scene in The Godfather when the movie studio mogul finds the severed head of his prize racehorse in bed with him.  So are my local foxes trying to send me a message.  I guess I should just be glad they didn't leave it on the back step, or better yet, find a way to get it into the house.

Yesterday morning when I took Ollie out for his potty break, because I would swear that I trot out the back door every two seconds with him to facilitate the housebreaking process, I noticed that the foxes had pooped on top of a pile of Ollie's poop.  I know - too much information!  But again, what sort of signal is this.  Is it an example of trying to one-up each other with the poo.  Is this some sort of crazy caca contest, feces fiasco or excrement extravaganza, letting the newbie know they were here first.  It's not as if I enjoy donning a double layer of gloves to scoop up poop every week.  I've had some close calls with the ol' gag reflex.  And then there was the time Ollie decided to chomp on and swing from the plastic garbage bag full of the little presents he leaves all over the yard just as I was finishing the poop scooping.  I guess I should be grateful he's taking care of business (mostly) in the yard instead of the house.  I just wish the foxes would knock it off with all these dominance displays and find some other yard to frequent.

So now for your viewing pleasure - the famous horse head scene.  And just to clarify, I didn't scream like a girl.

No comments:

Post a Comment