December 01, 2004

And on the Last Day of November

My hell mutt gave to me...

Wait. Let me start this story from the beginning. As you know, I have been blessed with the most murderous cat in Christendom and a dog who might best be described as completely useless and from hell.

Okay. Everyone up to date so far? Well, yesterday I arrived home, looking forward to a relaxing evening (The Boy is spending a few days with my folks--when I asked him if he was excited about coming home today he actually pitched a tantrum, screaming "Noooooooo! I DON'T WANNA!!" and running from the phone. If I were a lesser person I would question my parenting skills...) so the odds of the evening being relaxing were in my favor.

Until I got into our bedroom and noticed some odd animal hair on the floor. My first thought was that the dog had suffered an anxiety attack and self-mutilated, so I dragged her out from under the bed and examined her thoroughly. Nope. No bald spots.

Next I retrieved the cat and examined her for signs of abuse at the hands (or paws) of the dog. Nope. No trauma.

So I looked more closely at the hair. It matched neither of my pets in color or texture. My immediate next thought was that the cat had killed a rabbit inside, but there was no other physical evidence. Ooookay, maybe she had killed the rabbit outside and regurgitated the remains...but that didn't fit, either.

So still puzzled, I went to get the vacuum cleaner to clean up--it was just a little bit of hair, after all. I retrieved the vacuum, wheeled it into the bedroom, and leaned down to the outlet located behind our computer, only to discover...


I have dealt with vomit, urine, and poop, both human and animal, and never been icked out. I have scraped the remains of every type of woodland creature off of our front porch mat without batting an eyelash. But I am here to tell you that seeing three-quarters of a deer's front leg, complete with shiny clean shattered bone at the top and intact hoof at the bottom located behind your computer, will reorganize your day quite a bit.

Naturally, I called Hublet to the scene. He stood there for a moment, absorbing the juxtaposition of high-tech 21st century imagery with Call of the Wild carnage, and then remarked, "It's like The Godfather."

So. Deer leg was disposed of. Bedroom was boiled, vacuumed, disinfected, wiped down with Lysol wipes, boiled and disinfected again. And for the rest of the night whenever there was a lull in conversation or activity, Hublet and I would just look over at each other and calmly declare, "Deer leg." Or, if we were a bit more icked out, "DEER. LEG."

Stupid dog.

Posted by Big Arm Woman at December 1, 2004 09:03 AM

OK, you win. That beats by leagues anything any of my many dogs or cats have done over the past forty-some years.

Posted by: Michael at December 1, 2004 09:18 AM

Ya know, I used to think that our dog who ate from the piles of cow manure on the farm behind our house was gross.....

My bad.

Posted by: di at December 1, 2004 10:19 AM

Deer aren't all that fast. I'm not surprised he caught one.

Posted by: Ron Hardin at December 1, 2004 01:34 PM

You think you were unhappy, consider the poor deer.

Posted by: Lance McCord at December 1, 2004 02:23 PM

Could be worse - you could have to get your dog out of an elk.

Posted by: Eric Brown at December 1, 2004 02:52 PM

My hypothesis: deer hit by car, staggers away, dies. Dog comes upon dead body, brings the foreleg home.

Personally I'd much rather have a deer leg than half a rat. Usually the back half, with bits hanging out. Ick.

Posted by: Liz Ditz at December 1, 2004 03:37 PM

That has to be the most unexpected/funniest thing I have read in months! Whenever I open the freezer & see the venison I'm going to laugh.

Posted by: girlygirl at December 1, 2004 05:38 PM

damn. Eric beat me to the "dogs in elk" comment.

Posted by: ricki at December 2, 2004 08:32 AM

This brought back memories.

We lived for a while in (way) rural southern Illinois, and had a house in the country about 5 miles from town. The next door neighbor hat a rottweiler (named Buster) that roamed free. One day, as She Who Must Be Obeyed pulled into our driveway, sh saw Buster running across our yard with a deer haunch in it's mouth. No kidding - not just a leg bone, but the. whole. friggin. haunch. Boy, did he look happy (or proud).

Posted by: Pete at December 2, 2004 09:18 AM

When deer are butchered, the lower part of the leg is often cut off and discarded. There's hide, bone, and hoof, but not enough meat to seem worth the work of extracting it - especially when a non-professional butcher has 50 pounds or more of more easily accessible meat to process before it spoils.

So chances are, this dog just got into some hunter's garbage can.

Posted by: markm at December 2, 2004 12:06 PM

Probably just left overs after a hunter butchered a deer. I've seen this before.

Posted by: mark at December 2, 2004 01:30 PM

The late,lamented Southern magazine once published a short story whose basis was a 3-line brief in a Stokes County community newspaper about someone attempting to use a deer leg to break into a house. The second half of the story kind of tailed off, but the first half was laugh-out-loud funny -- all overdone noir.

Posted by: Lex at December 3, 2004 01:32 PM

Hey, the most murderous cat in Christendom can not possibly be innocent. In fact, he probably told the completely useless dog to put it behind the computer.

Posted by: Marie at December 3, 2004 05:43 PM

Let's just hope it wasn't an injured flying reindeer, or that Comet has an understudy. Otherwise, the Boy and his peers will be hurting come Christmastime.

Posted by: Eric at December 6, 2004 03:42 PM