Marc had to come up with that title, because I'm way too grossed out to be witty.
I realized that this picture is probably pretty hilarious, but because I had to live it, I just don't see the humor right now.
I will admit that while I didn't like finding Porch Kitty #1 or #2, it gave us a really great story. But this just makes me want to cry:
Marc was repairing the floor where the old brick flue was, and just stepped back and said very matter of fact: "Well Nik, it's 3 now." I somehow knew immediately what he meant. I turned and looked and literally teared up. I'm sick of finding dead animals.
Marc wanted to leave it. That was just unacceptable to me. So I got on my gloves, put plastic bags over them (hey, they are nice leather gloves) and retreived the poor guy. Honestly, to me it looks like a little dog, but Marc insists that it was an opossum, so we are going with that. RIP opossum.
So, of course when I'm down there. I also located #4 (and one of the opossum's missing legs). This is the last straw. Poor #4. He doesn't even have a skull. I don't even know what he/she was.
Excuse me now, I'm gonna go upstairs and cry.
Labels:
cracky house,
kitchen
That's a bit sad and a bit creepy. Hope that's the end of the body count!
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