Country living has its advantages. But then again…
A cold drizzle filled the afternoon as my wife and I approached the turn-in to our drive.
“ Look, there’s a little fox on the road.” she says.
I looked… “You’re right, it’s a fox. Must have been hit by a car.”
“I think it’s dead.”
“Either that, or it’s playing possum. Personally, I think it’s a buzzard meal.”
“Don’t say that. No way are we going to let the buzzards get that fox.”
“Hey, buzzards gotta eat too.”
“Well, if that’s the case then let em find something else.” Then she adds, “We have to do something.”
“And what would you purpose we do?”
“We can’t just leave it there. How would you like to be left on the road like that?”
“Well, first, I would have looked both ways before crossing the road.”
“Yes?” she inquires.
“And second, I wouldn’t have been standing in the middle of the road to begin with.”
“Well, obviously that fox wasn’t as smart as you. We can’t just leave it on the road, its liable to get squashed.”
“It’s already squashed. Well, some of it anyway.”
That’s when she turned to me with a look in her eyes that say “discussion over.”
“We have to give it a proper burial.”
“Ah, c’mon, we aren’t…”
“We are!”
With the wipers sweeping back and forth across the windshield, she and I proceed up the drive to the house. My wife gets a plastic garbage bag and tells me to get a shovel.
“Oh, and put on your mud boots.”
“Sweetie, I understand the bag and shovel but why the mud boots?”
“Because, after we remove the poor thing from the road, we’re going to bury it in the woods.”
“AH, JEEZE!!!”
So, back down the drive on foot we go. I just hope the neighbors don’t see me scooping up road kill. I feel stupid enough already.
When we arrive at the scene of the crime, I say, “Maybe we should call 911 and report a hit and run.”
“That’s not funny! Say, he looks kinda…”
“Dead?”
“Can’t you be a little more sensitive?”
“Deceased?”
“I give up!”
“OK, this is how we do it,” she says. I’ll hold open the bag while you scoop him up.”
So, after a few attempts, because the wet dead critter is kind of slippery, the fox is in the bag and we’re headed into the woods. The ground is soft and mucky form the rain and my boots are sucking into the wet earth. Cold rain is dripping from the tree branches and running down the back of my neck… I wish I had worn a hat.
“This is the dumbest thing I’ve done in a long time.” I say.
“Stop complaining, look on it as our good deed for the day.”
“So,” I ask, “Where do you want to bury the little critter?”
“Over by the creek under that tree. He should be happy there.”
I had no reply to that.
I began to dig a hole.
“That’s not big enough… That’s not deep enough… OK, that’s just right.”
When it was “just right” my wife placed the bag containing one deceased fox into the hole.
I start to shovel in the dirt.
“Wait,” she says. “We need to say something.”
“You’re kidding me, it’s a fox!”
“Yes, but it is one of God’s creatures so we should say something… maybe a prayer.”
“OK, I’ll say a prayer…”
“Dear Lord, take this fox. He managed to get himself squashed while playing on the road. Now Lord, can we just go to the house where it’s dry and warm? Amen.”
There it was again, those eyes glaring at me.
“Seriously? I can’t believe what I just heard!”
“I thought it was pretty good. Anyway, that fox doesn’t care what I said. Can we just fill in the hole?”
I finished the burial while my wife searched the creek bank and found a large stone. She placed it on top of the pile of dirt.
Back at the house I gave her a hug and told her that it was a nice thing that she did.
“Thank you. That makes me feel much better.” She said.
“I’m glad to know that when my time comes I will be in your capable hands. You are a good wife and I can only imagine what you will do for me when I go.”
“You don’t have to worry about that.”
“How come?”
“I’m having you cremated!”
A cold drizzle filled the afternoon as my wife and I approached the turn-in to our drive.
“ Look, there’s a little fox on the road.” she says.
I looked… “You’re right, it’s a fox. Must have been hit by a car.”
“I think it’s dead.”
“Either that, or it’s playing possum. Personally, I think it’s a buzzard meal.”
“Don’t say that. No way are we going to let the buzzards get that fox.”
“Hey, buzzards gotta eat too.”
“Well, if that’s the case then let em find something else.” Then she adds, “We have to do something.”
“And what would you purpose we do?”
“We can’t just leave it there. How would you like to be left on the road like that?”
“Well, first, I would have looked both ways before crossing the road.”
“Yes?” she inquires.
“And second, I wouldn’t have been standing in the middle of the road to begin with.”
“Well, obviously that fox wasn’t as smart as you. We can’t just leave it on the road, its liable to get squashed.”
“It’s already squashed. Well, some of it anyway.”
That’s when she turned to me with a look in her eyes that say “discussion over.”
“We have to give it a proper burial.”
“Ah, c’mon, we aren’t…”
“We are!”
With the wipers sweeping back and forth across the windshield, she and I proceed up the drive to the house. My wife gets a plastic garbage bag and tells me to get a shovel.
“Oh, and put on your mud boots.”
“Sweetie, I understand the bag and shovel but why the mud boots?”
“Because, after we remove the poor thing from the road, we’re going to bury it in the woods.”
“AH, JEEZE!!!”
So, back down the drive on foot we go. I just hope the neighbors don’t see me scooping up road kill. I feel stupid enough already.
When we arrive at the scene of the crime, I say, “Maybe we should call 911 and report a hit and run.”
“That’s not funny! Say, he looks kinda…”
“Dead?”
“Can’t you be a little more sensitive?”
“Deceased?”
“I give up!”
“OK, this is how we do it,” she says. I’ll hold open the bag while you scoop him up.”
So, after a few attempts, because the wet dead critter is kind of slippery, the fox is in the bag and we’re headed into the woods. The ground is soft and mucky form the rain and my boots are sucking into the wet earth. Cold rain is dripping from the tree branches and running down the back of my neck… I wish I had worn a hat.
“This is the dumbest thing I’ve done in a long time.” I say.
“Stop complaining, look on it as our good deed for the day.”
“So,” I ask, “Where do you want to bury the little critter?”
“Over by the creek under that tree. He should be happy there.”
I had no reply to that.
I began to dig a hole.
“That’s not big enough… That’s not deep enough… OK, that’s just right.”
When it was “just right” my wife placed the bag containing one deceased fox into the hole.
I start to shovel in the dirt.
“Wait,” she says. “We need to say something.”
“You’re kidding me, it’s a fox!”
“Yes, but it is one of God’s creatures so we should say something… maybe a prayer.”
“OK, I’ll say a prayer…”
“Dear Lord, take this fox. He managed to get himself squashed while playing on the road. Now Lord, can we just go to the house where it’s dry and warm? Amen.”
There it was again, those eyes glaring at me.
“Seriously? I can’t believe what I just heard!”
“I thought it was pretty good. Anyway, that fox doesn’t care what I said. Can we just fill in the hole?”
I finished the burial while my wife searched the creek bank and found a large stone. She placed it on top of the pile of dirt.
Back at the house I gave her a hug and told her that it was a nice thing that she did.
“Thank you. That makes me feel much better.” She said.
“I’m glad to know that when my time comes I will be in your capable hands. You are a good wife and I can only imagine what you will do for me when I go.”
“You don’t have to worry about that.”
“How come?”
“I’m having you cremated!”
STOP! STOP! We have to move him.
