Wish You Were Here...or Hairy Wasn't



If you'd been here a few moments ago, the scent of roasting chicken would've infused the warm cabin kitchen when you stepped across the threshold.

I would've said, "Oh, good! You're just in time for supper!" And insisted you stay to eat.

As you warmed your hands in front of the toasty wood stove, you'd look around and see the dog sleeping on the ottoman by my chair and think, all is truly well with the world tonight.


If you'd been here tonight you, too, could've heard the loud ker-thunking sound outside my kitchen window as the Visitor from Last Night returned!

Once again the Hairy Pooper eluded my attempts to capture him with the scant blade of yellow light my flashlight provided. But don't worry- tomorrow's another day.  Perhaps more fuzzy poo-poos await our morning trip to the woodpile.

Shoot! The fire's low and I need another log...Hope Hairy didn't smell the chicken...


Beth said...

Your cabin looks so cozy and your chicken so tasty---I'd be happy to come for supper anytime! :-) I do hope you'll soon have the scoop on the poop and know who Hairy is. My husband Tom, who used to be a zookeeper (or, as he says, a fecal engineer) speculates that it might be bobcat scat. Or possibly coyote, as you thought. Anyway, I hope your woodpile mystery is soon solved!

Nancy said...

Thanks, Beth! I'd love to have you! BTW, a "scat expert" at a university in Nebraska concurs with Tom.