While driving back from friend, MR's house, I saw a flash, short, long, dark, fast -- the fox. I have never seen a wild fox except for this little glimpse in the headlights. There is no fox hunting season in Indiana, thankfully, and in urban sprawl areas, it would be very unlikely to see one.
The hound, as she played the role was ever so playful, until MR mentioned trimming her tail, where the flag of a tail folded down under the weight of the news. Hound, she's not, but cananie, certainly.
-- enter the opposum
a longer than the hound, critter shuffles slowly between yards ... grayish, unkept fur on a lumbering body heads toward a neighbor's garden to fee.
No comments:
Post a Comment