Monday, August 3, 2009

Needs Surprise and I Found It in My Front Yard

I live right outside the city limits of Shreveport on approximately three acres of land. We enjoy the quiet out here, but things aren't always as tranquil as I'd like.

We were having an unusual summer storm with driving rain, thunder and lightning when "Biscuit" and my husband arrived home. "Biscuit" is the nickname of one of my husband's subcontractors and is a country boy if there ever was one. My children ran out onto the front porch to greet their daddy when they all heard a loud thud. Not the boom of thunder or a crack from lightning touching its mark but a thud. Much to every one's surprise a large raccoon fell out of the tree and hit the ground.

Now, I need to explain that when you live in the country people have a habit of dropping off animals they don't want. A few months prior to this stormy Monday someone so lovingly dropped off an old, red pit bull dog. I will confess. I am not a fan of pit bulls especially of ones that I don't know their background or how the were raised or treated, but this dog didn't go anywhere. It didn't help that my husband kept feeding it, and Pearce kept loving on it. Pearce loves dogs. He told everyone that "Big Red" was a bull-headed dog, and I'd have to correct him, "Pearce, you are the bull-headed one. Big Red is a pit bull." As a general rule Big Red was a very lazy dog, but when that raccoon fell out of the tree something awoke inside of him. I had never seen him react so quickly. He pounced on that poor raccoon.

It happened so quickly. The first thing I heard was Erin, my eight, year-old daughter and known drama queen, begin to wail, "Don't kill the raccoon! Don't let him kill the raccoon!" I sprinted to the door to see Big Red flailing the poor raccoon back and forth, back and forth, and large tears rolling down Erin's face. Pushing the kids inside the house, Erin went to her room, and Pearce made a b-line to the office window to see what happened next. After all, for a little boy this is Wild Kingdom in his own front yard. How much more exciting could it possibly get?

Biscuit approached Big Red to retrieve the raccoon (Could this sound anymore redneck?). Big Red released the coon, and Biscuit realized the coon was gravely wounded but not completely dead. Now remember, it is pouring down rain, thundering and lightning. Suffice it to say he had to end the coon of his suffering by slinging it against the tree, and to make sure the dogs didn't get at the carcass, he threw it on top of MY HOUSE!!!! (I tried not to think about it being up there.)

Later that night, Pearce was playing in the bathtub while I was taking off my makeup when he paused and looked up at me, "You know, that coon could come through the ceiling." Being all too aware of how Pearce's mind works, I knew it wouldn't be long before he realized that Biscuit had thrown that poor coon close to Erin, our little tree-hugger's, room, and he would use this to torment his sister. "Pearce, the raccoon doesn't weigh enough to come through the ceiling. Let's drop the discussion."

Foolishly I thought we were through with it, and I had forgotten about it until the next morning when I opened the double doors to the nursery where Pearce began talking about how Biscuit had slung that coon against the tree to kill it because...

Can I just say, I was mortified. As quickly as I could, I snatched him over to the side to nip his regaling the whole story. I explained that there were some things women didn't necessarily want to hear, especially little girls. I told him if he felt he needed to tell some one he could tell his friends who were boys, and that seemed to satisfy him.

This past weekend I went to Proverbs 31 -- She Speaks Conference in North Carolina, and as I told these stories, I was encouraged to write them down, to start blogging more regularly. My stories come from things that happen in my life or things I observe with my own warped twisted sense of humor. I believe God has a sense of humor; otherwise, He wouldn't have established puberty. He wouldn't have allowed my adopted children to answer the prayers of my mother-n-law and know the one, "I hope you have at least one child just like you." And He wouldn't have given us the gift of laughter.
So I hope you laugh. I pray that you at least smile, and if you like, leave a comment.


  1. my cheeks are hurting from laughing and smiling so hard! glad you're writing these stories down. It's like having you here.
    love to you, patrick, erin, pearce and the new dog. :)

  2. Isn't it nice when you realize what a country, redneck family you are raising, and that you really didn't intend for it to go this way? Just remember as you raise Pearce - you can take the hick out of the country, but you can't take the country out of the hick! Ha! Ha! And, by the way, who is responsible for removing the coon from the roof?


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