It was a warm Sunday afternoon and my mom and I were outside enjoying the sunshine. The boys were riding their bikes and we decided that it would be a good time for a margarita.
As if we really needed a reason for a margarita.
The evening progressed, the boys were playing, the sun was dipping on the horizon, we kept refilling our margaritas. We might have drunk ordered some pizza. Our evening was grand, we were happy!
Suddenly, my little Honey kitty came running up from the other side of our property carrying a gopher. We all cheered for her! I’ve written about our gophers before and how they are a huge problem and I detest them.
DETEST.
So Honey was playing with her gopher, it was really giving her a run for her money. We were all cheering, the kids gathered around to watch as if it was a Colosseum match to the death.
We toasted the gopher and his sacrifice.
But then the gopher fought back and it started to tunnel down into our front yard! His little furry butt went up into the air and he started to dig while my dumb cat just stood by and watched. I started screaming “IT’S GETTING AWAY!!!”
“ANTHONY!!! GO GET A SHOVEL!”
I was in a panic! I thought for sure this damn rodent was going to burrow into our front yard and continue to taunt us from it’s underground hideout. If my cat couldn’t do her job, we would have to help her.
Anthony ran to the other end of our property and grabbed the shovel and ran back as fast as he could. I stood their screaming, “GET IT! HIT IT! SMACK THAT GOPHER, ANTHONY!”
And he did!
My sweet seven year old started swinging that shovel around and around it went smacking that damn flea-infested critter over and over again.
And then I started laughing.
I laughed so hard I thought I might pee my pants. I laughed and I heard my mom laughing and we were both in hysteric’s. It took several moments for me to catch my breath, and when I did I realized that the gopher was dead.
Very dead.
Honey stood watching her little toy and wondering why it wasn’t playing with her anymore.
Grandma stood laughing in her puddle.
The twins stood in awe.
Anthony stood proud.
I stood in shock. I couldn’t believe what had just happened, but it was still so damn funny that I couldn’t think to say anything but “Good job, Anthony!”
Then Honey ate her gopher.
The End.
May 1, 2012
I totally laughed out loud. Too funny! I need to come hang with you sometime.
May 1, 2012
I can see this entire even go down in my mind… hysterical. Oh, and lemme add this to my “shit that will never happen to me living in Florida” list…
May 1, 2012
LMAO! There are no gophers in Florida??
May 1, 2012
Not where I am! They dont like sand too much lol
May 1, 2012
Yummie snack, Honey! Good job, Anthony. Can’t wait to meet you in person and drink margaritas, wonder what kind of shenannagans we’d get into.
May 1, 2012
OMG. Don’t let PETA see this post o.o
May 2, 2012
LOL. I live in Florida, but unfortunately we do have gophers. At my house I have the opposite problem though. The boys all beg me to save the animals from the cats. Mommy, save the poor little snake. Mommy, save the already dead squirrel, Mommy, go in the tree and get the baby bird before the cat does. You don’t even want to know what happens if I squash an ant. I could use an Anthony once in a while.
May 2, 2012
We live right outside of a city and we have COYOTES that eat our cats–I’d be thrilled if all we had were gophers…except for the fact that my daughter would make them all her pets.