Seriously Dad!

Dear Dad,

I've written you a hundred times since the last letter I wrote you. The letter I read at your memorial service. This is the first one I'm actually typing. It's hard to know where to start. There's been so much drama since your death. Maybe you know about it & if you don't I'm not going to tell you. Regardless, I have to tell you about tonight's drama. Seriously Dad...

After you died last year. Left last year. Passed on last year. Whatever the hell you're supposed to say so it doesn't seem so tragic out loud. After you left me, a friend of mine was fostering a puppy. You know how badly Pierce has wanted a dog. We were so fucking sad. Yes. Fucking sad. I know you won't like me using that word but it's the best adjective for this emptiness that I push way down so I can pretend everything's fine. Just fine. Any who, we were so fucking sad and here comes this picture on Facebook. Baby girl, whose mom had a tragic Disney ending, needed a home. And we needed some air forced back into our lungs. So off we went to pick up this 7-week-old pup. Best decision ever. But seriously Dad...

Tonight was round two of Peach 🍑 vs. Baby Possum. The first night was last week. I let her out to do her business before bedtime and she bolted under the back deck. She's a terrier mix and that dog can move! I hear a scuffle and she scoots bum first out from under the deck. I run to the edge and she has something small and furry. Oh my goodness. I strained to see what it was. It was a baby possum. It was 9:30 at night and I'm calling out into the darkness: "Peach! C'mon Peach! Want a treat? Want a treat? Oh sweet baby Jesus, please come get a treat." Not working. In fact, as I approach her, she picks up its limp body and runs to a new spot in the yard. I didn't realize how big that damn yard is. Then, much to my horror, she starts DTing the little bastard! One stiff leg, jumps high in the air and comes down hard on it. Over. And. Over. Again. Seriously Dad...

Pierce comes running at this point. I get her collar and come back out. "Wanna go for a walk? Peach? Peach? Wanna go for a walk?" No joy. Pierce and I try to flank her and her prey. She grabs it again and now runs over to the swing set. Pierce runs with me. "What is it?!" Is it a rat? Me: "No! It's a baby possum. Ewwwww! Oh my word. Oh my word." Pierce: "What are you going to do?" Me: "I have no idea!" I manage to get her collar on and drag her into the house. My heart was beating fast and my nerves shot. I'm horrified by what I just witnessed. I get Pierce into bed. I say, "I hope it's OK. And doesn't have some kind of disease." Pierce: "Yeah, what if it has the diabetes?" Me: 😂 😂😂 "Well, we'll let Wilfred Brimley (is that his name?) worry about that." Pierce: "Who?" Me: Never mind. Go to bed. I'll scout out the yard in the morning and hopefully that little sucker was just playing possum. Although, I'm pretty sure Killer Peach put a hurt on it. So, I did what any rational single mom would do. I poured a glass of whiskey on the rocks. Even the ice falling into the glass nerve-racking. Seriously Dad...

I scout the yard in the morning. Don't see it. Anywhere. Whew. Once again I'm talking aloud to myself or just putting it out there in case the little bastard can hear me. "Holy shit dude. I hope you're far away from KP. I can't take anymore violence or whiskey right now." Seriously Dad...

So here we are again tonight. She won't come in. I'm on the phone with Fitz or Fritz as you liked to call him, and I see she has something ON THE DECK. ON.THE. DECK. I realize it's Little Bastard. I say to Fitz, "Oh no! She's got the possum again. On the deck. Oh no! Oh Fitz! Shit! I need to close the door. Oh my gosh. Can you imagine if she brought it in the house? Holy hell." Then I turn my attention back to Peach.  "Oh no. Peach. Please. Dude. Drop it!" To my surprise she does. Then, she takes it out to the yard. And tosses it up high in the air, over and over and over and over again. Holy crap. Oh my gosh. "Want a treat? Come on! Leave it Peach!" She drops it, wags, and smiles at me. She seemed so very pleased with herself. Fitz is asking questions calmly on the phone. I'm not listening. I  try to give him a play by play of the horrific situation. I run in the house and get a treat. I break off part of it and throw it in the yard. "Peach? Want a treat? Go get it." She looks at me for a minute as if she was thinking "No way in hell lady!" And then she goes over to the grass to look for the treat. She finds it and woofs it down. I hold up the other half. "Good girl! Come on. Want a treat? She follows me into the house. I shut and lock the door. Pierce comes out of the bathroom after his shower. I tell him she had the baby possum again. She runs over to him and tries to lick his bare leg. He yells, "Don't lick me! Don't lick me! Goodnight!" He disappears into the bedroom. I have her kennel up. She gets a big drink of water to get the taste of Little Bastard out of her mouth I assume. She flops down and goes right to sleep like nothing happened.

I realize Fitz is still on the phone. I've been talking to him off and on throughout the incident. I go in and kiss Pierce goodnight. I sit on the couch. I say, "Oh my goodness. She's acting like nothing just happened." Fitz, who has been to the climbing gym, had pizza and wine at ZaZa's, and is headed to the grocery, has the nerve to say, "Nothing did happen. It's just a dog being a dog. It's OK." 👌 Yeah. OK. Dude. Sure. Seriously Dad...

I want to call you so badly. I want to meet you at My Friend's Place and tell you all about it. Watch your eyes dance with amusement as I tell you every gory detail. You'd hold my hand. Put your arm around me. Tell me I did great. Try not to think about it. And call Adam's. Seriously Dad...