To understand this you'll probably need to understand that we live in South Western Georgia (in the USA), and are vegetarians of long standing. Carl is my husband person and is the most laid back person I have ever known. Nothing frazzles him. We also have run a no kill animal (cat mostly) sanctuary from our itty bitty home for over 20 years now. (Current population about 2 dozen, plus 3 large dogs.)

One of Carl's duties is to keep the 100 plus acres of the boss's land mowed and tidied up, including around the pond. He was working on it Sunday (when he wasn't working here trying to put a wall in that was taken out during the last tornado), and came back home (we're in front of the boss's land) to cool off and get a drink.

Here's how it went.

Carl "Well, Mr. P has a new pet."

Me "That's nice. Another dog?" (Mr. P is not a cat person.)

Carl. "No, an 8 foot alligator. It's out next to the pond."

Me "A WHAT?"

Carl "It's OK, I didn't touch it, just tried picking up its tail. I thought it was a log."

Me "DON'T DO THAT! THAT THING WILL EAT YOU!"

Carl "Now Dear, it won't eat me."

Me "Listen to me. Do Not Go Near The Alligator."

Carl "I have to finish mowing around the pond."

Me, totally fed up "Blank blank invective, DON'T. And call the Boss and tell him about the gator before Tom (Boss's wonderful German Shepherd) gets eaten."

Day One, "Dear, did you tell the boss about the gator." Answer no, too busy. (normal for him)

Day Two see above

Day Three also see above

Day Four Rode my wheelchair down the stairs out front and plunked my butt in the boss's driveway, waiting for his wife to come down. Told her about gator. Listened as she went ballistic, watched as she hauled ass back up the road to make the dog stay inside till she got home from work. I could hear her screaming for the dog from a half mile away.

Last night (of day four) Carl came home. He said Darlene (wife of boss, aka She Who Is To Be Obeyed) called him and her first words were "What's this about a (expletives deleted so your tender eyes won't be offended) alligator in my yard? Why didn't you (blanking) tell me?"

So Carl called DNR (Department of Natural Resources) and they are supposed to be sending out a gator wrangler today to remove the boss's new pet and take him back to the animal preserve on the Marine Base next door. Knowing well how long it usually takes DNR to get off their tan uniform encased backsides, find the truck keys, get the necessary animal capture tools (duct tape and a really long snare pole), diet soda, candy bar, cigarettes , Cd's or 8 track tapes, whichever, and figure out how to get out here (they'll end up here so I can show them where to go, which will be better than what Darlene would say); they'll probably show up next month or so. By that time, Carl and He Who Is To Be Obeyed (except in the case of SHE Who Is To Be Obeyed) will get together, wrangle the gator into submission and tape the poor critter's mouth shut, along with his legs. I'm not sure what they will do to contain the thrashing tail. Son number 4 will undoubtedly be dragooned into assisting which means my precious daughter in love will raise her dulcet voice into a screech and we'll hear a few more choice bleeps and blanks whilst he does the man thing and assists in the Great Gator Wrassle.

When Carl came home last night he had two whole chickens from the grocery store. (Yuk) I looked at him like he was nuts.. The animals licked their collective doggy and kitty chops, awaiting the treat which was rightly theirs because there isn't a snowball's chance in Miami that I'm serving that to us. However the chickens weren't for the dogs, nor were they for the cats. They were not for the families we help out. They were for the alligator.

He did agree to stay in the truck and just toss the chickens to the alligator. We discussed the merits of just leaving the chickens in their nice if dripping plastic baggies or removing them and letting the gore act as a sauce to entice the poor gator to eat his dinner. Carl opted for gore, as he was afraid the plastic might hurt the aligator. I opted for laying down with a glass of ginger ale to settle my stomach. The cats opted for waiting till I was out of the kitchen so they could remove the gory plastic chicken bags and lick them clean. (Despite me washing the things before discarding them.) For good measure they removed everything else from the garbage bag and the "For The Compost" bucket and spread all of the gore, coffee grounds, egg shells, apple cores, orange peels, potato peels and whatever else all over the kitchen floor. Later I was told that the poor thing (the alligator, now known as Captain Hook) enjoyed the chickens and didn't complain about the lack of biscuits, cole slaw and baked beans which should have accompanied the chicken dinner.

And some folks think it is boring living out in the country.

Hugs, Jeanne in GA