For any non-hunter type or PETA members, stop here. You don't want to know what happened at the Farm so I'm warning you now. Quit reading.
As I headed for the shower on Sunday morning, my murdering "Mountain Man" husband headed out to try to "call up some critters". I swear....he really said that..... Sounded just like Jethro Bodine. I went on about my bid'ness and it wasn't too long before I heard shots ring out, coming from the back pasture. Ohhhhh, Lordy...that can't be good news for something that used to be alive. Long about after while, I hear Sis barking that high pitched, frentic, "lookey heah" bark that only means one thing... guess who's home....?? The Terminator. And he can't wait to show me what he's shot. Ohhhhh, I can hardly wait... but first he wants me to guess what it is. OK...I'll play. A cow. No? A goat from down the road. Wrong again?? Rodney's (caretaker's) dog. Not even close?? Oh, please, I give.

It seems that Sanger, Texas, is still plenty rural enough for....wait for it...... a big bobcat. And I do mean big. This old gal hadn't missed many meals either. But the worst part is, he wanted to bring it home, in my car, and that's just w-r-o-n-g. I don't care if it was double bagged with trash bags--that's just way too ick. And in the back seat, right behind ME. But I drew the line at my freezer. (You freeze them until you take them to the taxidermist.) Wanna guess who got freezer duty? Hint: she gave birth to him many moons ago. It only seems right, don't you think?