I was having my Sunday afternoon nap when I heard Mama race downstairs and then back upstairs.
What was going on?
I found her in the kitchen with her camera. This is what she was shooting:
I whimpered. Let me OUT, Mama! I’ll take care of it for you!
She ignored me. Me, the king of this domain!
She took more pictures right through the window as the thing munched on our grass (yeah, you can see how dry it’s been here):
Finally, she raced outside, and I heard her shooing the varmint off.
Wait, Mama, that’s my job!
Well, when she was finally satisfied the thing was out of reach, she opened the door for me.
Whee, watch me track him, Mama:
I couldn’t find him anywhere, but Mama said she saw him scoot under the storage shed.
He just thinks he’s safe there.
Don’t worry, Fella. I’ll get you next time!
Meanwhile, Mama went on the Internet in search of the thing’s identity.
It wasn’t a raccoon, as she first thought.
It wasn’t a possum, as our neighbor suggested.
Nope, this is what it is (or so we think).
See if you agree: