I got a text from my neighbor a couple of days ago. She told me there was a dead cat on my side of the gangway. I was at work when I got the text, so of course my vivid imagination started seeing a dead animal lying on the concrete as people walked past and wondered why no one attempted to remove the dead carcass. I admit it. When I came home, I peeked down my gangway before I even put my car in the garage. There was nothing there, so I couldn’t imagine where this dead animal was.
It was also late at night when I got in and it was kind of hard to see. So I grabbed a male neighbor and asked him if he could help me remove the dead animal. Truthfully, I’m a big chicken. I didn’t want to have to do it and if I could find someone else to do it, that would be perfect. I found an empty box and my trusty snow shovel. Those were the two tools I would need to get the job done.
I, my neighbor and the guy all went and looked all throughout the plants on that side of my property. We didn’t see anything nor was there a smell. I teased my neighbor that perhaps she had been having a little bit too much of the 180 proof! I’ll admit it. I was relieved that there was nothing really dead on my side of her gangway.
The next day she was kind enough to send me a text that arrived after work. It gave me explicit details about where the dead animal was. I decided it was too late on Friday night to even try to go out there and look for the deceased critter. The following morning would have to suffice.
Saturday morning came, and I again grabbed the tools I would need. A shovel. A box to be the coffin and mental fortitude to get the job done. I tried to spot the dead animal from off my deck, but couldn’t see it. However, when I opened the window on that side, the putrid odor told me that yes…. there was something dead out there.
This time I wouldn’t have any help. So I womaned up and found the furry carcass. I couldn’t tell you what kind of animal it was as I didn’t look close. Nor did I care to know. When I tried to use the shovel to scoop it up, it wasn’t moving. I would need something else to drag it onto the shovel in order to put it in the box. I went and got a second shovel and with my eyes closed and face turned away, I was able to get whatever it was into the box. Then I was able to get the box into a big black plastic bag, which I put in the garbage even as I squealed in fright and jumped in disgust.
Sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to do. Saturday morning was one of those times!
CONTACT: westside2day@yahoo.com
