I was born and raised a city gal. Firmly believed that concrete was the ‘natural look’, that grass grew in carefully segmented square blocks, that animals roaming around were the neighbor’s cats and dogs.
Then I moved out into the country and discovered:
That people who say things like “that raccoon is more afraid of you than you are of it” have not correctly assessed my fear level.
That “knee high by the Fourth of July” doesn’t just refer to corn.
That many small animals look remarkably similar once they’ve been introduced to the cat.
That the neighbors still shoot guns off at all times, 'cept now it isn’t a ‘drive by’ but a ‘skeet shooting tournament’.
One day recently, I came home and noted a strong odor on the back porch. It smelled like some one had burned a tire or something. I could smell it in parts of the house, too. Looked all around for signs of smouldering, found none. Called my SO and described the problem.
“Oh yea,” he says casually. “it appears we have a family of skunks who’ve moved in near our back porch.”
Damn. And I don’t even have an “Eva Gabor” type dressing gown to console me.