dans la mémoire d’un écureuil mort

I’m such a wimp.

My two large dogs were outside this morning, playing with a dead squirrel. (We have many, many trees, and a few times a year a squirrel dies from injuries sustained due to a fall from a significant height.) Clearly, they considered this real toy to be much more fun than the fake furry toys we provide indoors. As I approached, my black lab scooped up the limp corpse in her mouth and happily brought it over to show me.

I considered the options:

  1. Leave the dogs to their fun. But… if they carried their game with the ex-squirrel to the grand finale they generally reach with any stuffed toy indoors, the body would end up in fuzzy, blood-soaked fragments all over the yard. This would not be a pleasant “welcome home!” for my kids after school.
  2. Find a suitable implement and/or gloves, pick up the dead squirrel, and either bury it outside the dogs’ invisible fence line or wrap it up and put it in the trash. OK, all I can say is, ewwwwww.
  3. Find something heavy to put over the squirrel so the dogs can’t get at it, and leave it for my husband to deal with later.

Needless to say, I went with option 3. I’ve posted a large note by the door that says, “Dead squirrel under wheelbarrow!” My husband, knowing me as he does, will understand perfectly.

6 responses to “dans la mémoire d’un écureuil mort

  1. Before you even chose it, I said, “I’d go with #3.” I don’t blame you…ewwww is right!

  2. #3 had the added benefit of providing your DH with the gift of feeling needed.

  3. Hahaha! Must absolutely agree with JoAnn there. Nothing makes men feel more valued than doing disgusting things. Truth is, most of us hate killing bugs, dealing with rodent corpses or whatever.

    It’s the asking that makes it worthwhile.

    I imagine some eons ago dealing with squirrel corpse was just one of the many manly activities we were genetically primed for… but I mean like the huge prehistoric squirrels with the saber-teeth.

  4. A month or two ago the dogs located a small dead rodent of some variety and thoughtfully brought it into the garage. My 11-year-old son spotted it before I did and asked me to please get him some paper towels so he could “take care of it.” He wrapped it up without a qualm and put it in the trash. I expressed great appreciation. So, he felt needed and appreciated, and he also began his journey of fulfilling his genetic dealing-with-gross-stuff potential. 😀

  5. l’écureuil mort vit sur… dans votre blog !

    das tote Eichhörnchen lebt auf… in Ihrem blog!

    lo scoiattolo guasto vive su… nel vostro blog!

  6. the little bad kid in me said, “let the dogs have their fun,” but the idea of them bringing the parts inside is really nasty. #3 is the best option and you have a sweet husband for taking on the chore without question.

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