The Hunt, The Big Kill

This is the face of what use to be a sweet little puppy dog:

Now it is the face of a fierce predator.

The feeling of that last vibration of my scream still hangs my vocal cord. In my head my scream continues to echo. Watching the dog in mid-hunt was not exactly my idea of a cool but sunny Saturday afternoon activity.

Seeing that little vole, that I first mistook for a mouse, scrambling its little feet and tail as it hung helpless for its predators mouth--who lost grip a time or two; was just all to much for me to remain controlled and calm. I began squirming, then turned to a slight jump enhanced with screams and yells. It slightly resembled a white chick with no rhythm on the dance floor. I yelled to the girls who then joined me in a chorus of complete and utter over-the-top girl drama. It was so Valley Girl with it domino effect of "oh-my-gosh", hands flailing in air, feet pattering in a run-in-place step. Our voices surely bounced off every tree in the neighborhood--although we didn't stop our romp long enough to notice an audience. M even pulled a “Tom Cruise” when she ran back in the house and jumped on the couch and jumped and jumped some more. D decides she should catch the vole in a plastic U-Gas soda cup, bring it in the house to show me (while I was still feeling traumatized) till the sisters stopped her. She decides throwing the varmint in our neighbors yard is a grander idea. M on the other hand for a brief moment became sadistic when she suggested we drown it, euthanize the little half-dead vole. She felt it would be more humane to put the vole [quickly] out of its misery. Of course a moment like that requires text messages to King Ralph followed by a phone call where he could enjoy the operatic tones of a quartet scream.

Our back yard looks like a war zone. We have holes here and there. We have dead grass circles that resemble a racetrack and an alien landing. I am seriously wondering what kind of magic I can create to make the yard look less like Uli's hunting/running grounds and more like a yard fit to host a graduation party. Then again I could just ask the guest to come dressed in camouflage.

I like so need some Xanax but, since I don’t have any….