Friday, May 28, 2010

Why Do Animals Keep Getting Slaughtered At the Greenbelt?

I am starting to become concerned.  Every four or five days, while taking Tulip out to play, I come across something dead amidst the beauty of our little greenbelt.  I should probably rephrase the previous statement by not using the word dead, but rather massacred...yes, massacred would be a better description.

A few weeks ago, the puppy and I were out enjoying the sun and I was throwing the frisbee for her happy for the all-too-brief respite from work, when Tulip suddenly dropped her toy and ran over to the edge of the woods and began to sniff at something.  I ran over towards her to be sure that she was not going to try to eat a mushroom or something else poisonous, when she took off running with something that was about a foot and a half clutched in her jaws and trailing behind her.  I yelled and she dropped the thing, and when I got close enough to inspect what she had been carrying, I saw that it was about a foot in length of some creature's grayish-brown bowels with another six inches of hair and membranes tightly wound at the end.  I nearly wretched.  The puppy, having tasted the foul thing, actually wanted nothing to do with the guts and with a long stick in hand, I scooped and flung them into the woods.  Disgusting.

I can't believe I had that shit in my mouth!

Early one other morning on a quick walk with Tulip before I went off to work, we were walking through the right side of the greenbelt towards the business area and Tulip began to rummage around in the leaves.  Not quite awake, I stood there muttering to myself and the dog, when I realized that she was trying to eat something.  I then tried to pry whatever it was from her mouth and once successful, looked at the small item and threw it into the ravine before it occurred to me what I had just discarded...a mouse skull.  Equal parts disgusted and wishing I had photographed the diminutive skull, I shrugged my shoulders, and we finished the walk, wondering why I had to actually pull the skeletal remains of a mouse from my puppy's iron clenched jaws.

This way there be mouse skulls.

I relayed the stories to Amy and our friends and they agreed that Tulip was gross and I thought nothing more of it...until the next day.  Again we were playing frisbee and Tulip stopped mid-run to sniff something that even she would not pick up.  Deja-vu setting in, I steeled my nerves and my stomach for the next horror that my dog had happened upon and I approached it.  A piece of dried pelt-like furry bit was laying on the otherwise pristine grass.  I distracted Tulip by flinging the frisbee in the opposite direction of the dead part, and I grabbed a stick to fling it into the woods.  The first attempt ended in failure and only succeeded in turning the thing over.  To my horror, I stared at a dried, stretched-out gopher face...teeth and all.  With a cry of disgust, I used a pair of sticks as makeshift chop sticks and tossed the remains into the woods.

...and this way there be gopher faces.

Now.  Present time.  Today.  My trusty canine pal and I headed out to the slaughter grounds to test out the new Kong Zinger Toy I had just bought for her to replace the Kong Frisbee that had mysteriously disappeared.  We were having fun, at least we were up until Tulip stopped to stare at a far off mound lying in the grass.  She did not touch it and came when I called, again running off in the opposite direction when I flung away her Zinger.  There it was, a dead possum covered in ants and thankfully not dismembered.  I did not try to move it into the woods and left it for someone else to deal with and with the utmost cowardice avoided that side of the park.

Don't tread on me, Bro.

There you have it.  God only knows what we find when we go out there tomorrow.

If I find this next, we're sending the keys in.


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