Doves and Deer

I didn’t recap the weekend yesterday because I had almost no recollection of it. I knew some people came over for dinner Saturday night, but everything else was pretty much forgotten. Getting old is fun, kids! It’s like those blackouts you have in college without the arrest warrants.

Anyway, I finally retraced me steps and remembered that FRIDAY, our dog Freeda brought a Mourning Dove to our door. It wasn’t dead, but it wasn’t flying away. So we did what all responsible animal-lovers would do, we put it in a box and sent it with MoonPie to Girl Scouts. Luckily for “Worther’s”, I was hungry,  and after picking Moon up, we went to eat at a new Mexican restaurant ALL THE WAY IN PAULDING COUNTY, which just happened to be right next door to a animal hospital. (I’m pretty sure that previous sentence is what the professionals describe as “run-on”, but it’s late and I want to get the memory down before it’s gone.) They said they’d take Worther’s and we were out the door before they could think to ask where to send the bill.


Saturday I cleaned house because that’s what normal people do and not because people were coming over for dinner. Our friend Britt got his first deer this year and he was nice enough to share the meat. I was worried that Moon wouldn’t eat it, but the child ate the deer appetizer, her deer steak, and half of MINE before I made her move on to the vegetables. The first thing she said on Sunday morning was, “Man, that deer meat was GOOD.”

Which is when I told her, “Tastes just like Mourning Dove.” In case Freeda gets lucky again. I can’t be driving all the way across town for every stray animal that finds itself in our yard.

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