Yesterday I mentioned that I have an issue with a mole tearing up my yard. I went out this morning to survey the night’s damage. My mole hosted a wee-morning-hour rave party. He and his friends got high on grub worms, tore the crap out of the lawn, and around 2:00 AM they made some babies. Those babies immediately sprouted into full-grown, hairless adults and contributed to the destruction by uprooting a rhododendron.
To make matters worse, last week I planted a poisonous grub worm in the mole’s tunnel with the intent to murder the little son-of-a . . .ugly buck-toothed rat. Today, I found the toxic worm gently placed on top of the mole’s latest mud hill. That little bastard is toying with me. He is mocking me, and hoping my stupid dog will eat the fatal grub. (Note: our dog, Chaucer, is smart in his own way and the front-yard mole is a skin-head canine racist)
My yard looks like a war zone and my husband thinks we should let the creepy little assholes stay through the winter and kill ‘em in the spring right before we aerate the lawn.
I think my husband is trying to protect my fragile self-esteem ‘cause he knows I am being outsmarted by an ugly blind rodent. But I am not giving up; that rodent is trying to kill our dog!