I wasn't home when the house exploded. I was three blocks away, taking Shameless O'Houligan to the vet for his shots and stitches. Shameless, according to Dr. Conner, is 110 pounds of Irish Wolfhound Scottish Terrier mix. He is also, as his name would imply, a handful.
This morning he had caught wind of Norman, the squirrel who had been tormenting him for weeks by pelting him with acorns from my old oak, in time to actually do something about it. One bound from the front step, a mighty leap, and he had a shocked and terrified gray squirrel by the tail, fighting for its life.
Squirrels have wicked claws, sharp teeth, and an attitude problem. This one, however, had pitched its last acorn. Scratched and bloodied Shameless may have been, but he was prancing around the yard with Norman's severed tail. No dog, ever, had been prouder or more satisfied.
I loaded Shameless, and his prize, into my battered old VW and to Dr. Conner.
It saved my life.
They said it was an accident--a natural gas explosion.
But it wasn't.
I was left with my dog, my car, the clothes on my back a whopping $300.00 in my checking account, and a killer on my trail.
My name is Erin Murphy.
Welcome to my life.
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