When my sons were much younger, probably in the 7 & 5 age ranges, we were out on errands, and I hit and killed a squirrel. It was an accident, but the boys freaked and for at least a while, I became the most horrid human on the planet. Obviously, I did not forget that incident from three decades ago.
Fast forward to the present day. I despise squirrels. They have damaged a multitude of plantings and destroyed decorative garden flags. Our next-door neighbor, much to our distress, feeds them peanuts which they bring into our yard and garden and bury. They are digging holes all over our yard. I have said many times that the only good squirrel is a dead one.
Yesterday I was out on errands. Please note that I have braked for many a squirrel. I don't care to kill one, because a) that is not my nature, and b) I have PTSD from squashing the squirrel with my sons in the vehicle. So the squirrel that crossed my path yesterday... I slowed down, it couldn't make up its mind which way to go, and yep, I heard the thud. So now I am waffling between feeling bad and feeling OK with one less squirrel out there destroying things.
Sorry, not sorry,
Leta
 |
| Imagine photo of a dead squirrel here; I couldn't bear to use one from Google Images. |
No comments:
Post a Comment