There was this Basset Hound I nearly died trying to avoid hitting on my way to work 3 out of 5 days a week. The dog was slower'n molasses, musta been older'n dirt, too. I was always late. I'd be hauling butt, then cautious of the usual turtle/Basset Hound crossing area, then speed back up.

Once I reached 55 MPH, think I'm in the clear, here he'd come like Senior Slowpoke. The speed at which he crossed made it impossible to go around him in either the front or rear of the dog so I was forced to stand my car on it's head as I skidded to a dramatic and suspenseful as hell stop. I went through a lot of tires.

I HATED that dog! Until one day, I saw it, with one fore paw raised as it delicately sniffed at the body of it's life long companion (another Basset), freshly hit by a car (it wasn't me) and gone to the by and by. I didn't hate him anymore, I was SAD.

I'd had a dandy driving record. At the age of 26 the only thing I had ever so much as injured with my vehicle was a frog. Stupid frog. But he was on a motorcycle. How was I supposed to see him? I know, I know, "look twice, save a life, mototcycles are everywhere." I was/ am a serious animal lover and I am always cautious of any movement along side the roads. Even in the face of lateness, I would routinely get out of my car to rescue a turtle from the road. After a while I began to wonder if it was the same turtle and if he had come to expect my roadside services.

I was proud of my driving record, proud that I had never killed an animal with my car, except a frog, and couldn't imagine how I'd handle it if I ever did.

Well I made up for a lifetime of driving animal safe in one trip.

... when I murdered a murder of crows. That's not a typo. A large group of crows is called a murder. No shit. Anyway. I was late for work again - years later/different job but still taking back roads and shortcuts. This shortcut led me down a long and winding country road. To my right was a farm and as it was fall, the grass had grown high and turned golden yellow. Large trees hung over the road like a tunnel of branches and leaves. It was pretty and even though I was traveling at warp speed, I was taking in the beauty of the sunrise on that particular morning as the sun burned off the fog that was lying over the still shadowed parts of the field.

Then the unexpected happened. Crows! My favorite birds. They had been hanging out in the high grass and had been totally invisible, until my approaching car with the animal whistlers installed beneath the front bumpers, spooked them into flight. They flew up from the ground at a sharp and low angle from my right. They did not get high enough to avoid my car. There was no way I could have avoided hitting them because they flew up at the same time my car was in their path. About 8 of them hit my passenger door and window. "What the...?" Still more flew up in front of me split seconds before slamming into my windshield as I watched in horror in my rear view mirror as they went tumbling, ass over tea kettle, over the top of my car and into the street behind me.

Squawking, cawing and the sickening smack of cracking bird bones and bird skulls filled my ears, "boom, bump, pffthpppp, bump, crack, smack, thmppp-thmppp."

"OH GOD PLEASE MAKE IT STOP!" How big could this murder be? I had traveled a little over 1/10 of a mile and they were still launching themselves in front of, into the side of, and under the tires of my car!! When I finally skidded to a stop the road was littered with the sad, massacred bodies of the awesome crow.

My latest episode involved an already dead animal. I was leaving my friend's house who lives out in the sticks. It was late and of course there were few, if any street lights. My headlights had gotten muddy on the dirt road to her house so the light from them was dim at best. I was looking for a gas station where I could pull over and clean them off, but the sidewalk apparently had been rolled up at dusk and nothing was open.

I trudged along, holding out for the first glimmer of the lights of civilization when, "KaTHUUMMUUMMP!" I ran over something in the road that I totally could not see in this darkness. It was so large I thought for a minute that my Mustang might just flip over on it's side! I slammed on my breaks, fearing I had run over a person when I saw in my rear view mirror the white pattern of the underbelly of a huge dear, illuminated now by my taillights. This weren't no ordinary dear. This was more like a dang MOOSE!

"Supper's ready!"


I have a window perch in my kitchen where I stand and drink my Frappiccino in the mornings and observe the world outside. I watch the crows and Mr. Squirrely Squirrel whose rear-end has gotten so big lately that he had to gnaw the entry door of the bird house which he has taken over so he could squeeze his fat little ass through it. It is funny to see his rear and tail sticking out of the bird house door with his little squirrel feet going round and round like he's riding an invisible bike as he tries to gain some kind of traction to get his butt through the door.

How do I know he's a Mr.? Because he once jumped over my head from porch rail to tree bow and I saw his surprisingly large doo-dads swinging between his legs. I'm totally serious.

One morning I walked into the kitchen and found my dog and 3 cats sitting side by side at the sliding glass door, watching something on the back porch with great interest. They were mesmerized and not fighting amongst themselves, which was a first. I quietly & slowly walked over to see what held their attention and saw that it was Mr. & Mrs. Squirrely Squirrel in the yard chair.... gettin' it on! 

Later I watched them from my window perch, chasing each other around the acorn tree in our front yard. Mrs. Squirrely Squirrel ran across the street and climbed a little way up a tree, then turned to entice her partner to follow. He went hopping after her, sailing over the ground like a dolphin in the ocean, in that steady wave of up and down travel. He was one hop away from the grass on the other side of the street when our neighborhood maniac, in her blue hoopty with one door hanging off came clattering and barreling up the street at about 50 MPH through the stop sign - she never stops. She didn't swerve, didn't even tap her breaks. She clipped the side of his head with her rear tire. Mr. Squirrely Squirrel jumped skyward and was dead before he hit the pavement.

I went and got Savagehusband, who got the shovel. It began to rain hard, but he dug a grave for Mr. Squirrely Squirrel, while I held him by the tail. "Shouldn't we say a few words?" I asked.
"Oh, oh yeah," He said, bowing his head, "Mr. Squirrely Squirrel was a good Squirrel. You had some good nuts, you had some bad nuts, but mostly you had some real big squirrel nuts." Savagehusband nudges me with his elbow because it's my turn.

"In the name of the Father, the Son and IN THE HOLE-HE-GOES!"