Toast & Bridges

Marty is back… he’s been sneaking around the yard for weeks, but this is the first time I was able to snap his photo.

The groundhog is extra skittish this year so I think he is avoiding the man who tried to evict him last Fall by blocking all but one entrance to his home. The plan was to wait until Marty was out wandering and seal off that entrance, too; but, the vet never saw him out again.

Of course, I had to text him a photo with, “Here’s your buddy, lol.”

I’m pretty sure Marty Marmion is a boy… no sign of babies, so Marty must be short for Martin. I only see him on rainy days, go figure. That’s about as close as he’ll get to predicting the weather.

Marty’s tenure here is pretty safe as we took a couple steps back… I told the vet that I need to be the girlfriend he comes to visit, not the woman he kind-of, semi-part-time lives with, and so far that seems to be working out even though he told me that’s some fucked up bullshit. He still has a key to the house, still comes and goes as he pleases, but it changed the dynamics a bit. No more sulking around like he doesn’t really want to be here but feels like he has to… our time together is more enjoyable.

Screech, halt, delete?

Not always enjoyable… between saving this as a draft and coming back to finish, we got into it on Sunday, made nice on Monday, I went to psych Wednesday, and now it’s Thursday… who knows what tomorrow will bring?

I keep thinking about burnt toast. You can scrape it dry all the way down to the raw bread so it doesn’t look burnt, but you will still taste a hint of burnt with every bite, even if just imagined.

At the slightest provocation, he throws words to the wind. Take Sunday’s fight… he was instant mad because I asked if he had any money for me. I forgot he had problems with the ATM, but oh no… he don’t believe that I can forget anything. Rawr, rawr, he’ll be gone before I get back from the store.

That’s three times… three times since May 1st that he’s put those words to the wind. So much for always and forever, third time is a charm… I say “okay, fine” and fight’s on, then as soon as he calms down, he changes his mind.

How many times does he have to threaten to leave me before I’m done?

Toast and bridges babe…


UPDATE:  Marty is a Marsha!!! Either that, or daddy has liberal visitation rights with the two young groundhogs that play from here to the garage two doors up. One has a dark, bushy tail… should I name them?  Nah, they’ll grow up and leave home… least that’s what my dad tells me.  He has new babes under his shed every year.



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