I was out back cutting the lawn today in my darkest sunglasses, the ones I cannot see much out of. As I pushed my mower beneath some vines I have been meaning to prune I hit something just about big enough to stall out the mower. There was a crunchy sound and some Picton Farm screaming. Too bad I do not use a bag to collect my grass cuttings. That may have limited the size of the patch of the back garden that looked suddenly like the remains of a Canadian soldier after a bad Saturday night in Afghanistan.
Unless people have started putting collars on the local wild rabbit population my guess it was someone's kitten that got splattered in my haste to cut the lawn before the fall rains are upon us. But the rain is not supposed to come until Sunday which makes for a clean up problem. What if the neighbour's little girl comes by looking for her cute little Buttons and sees a pile of gore in the backyard dotted with Buttons' fur?
I put the Hammer out back to see if she would clean it up for me. It does not look half bad now. And the Hammer loves me more than ever.