This is George…

I trapped George in the backyard a while back after a frenzied few days where the dogs dug their way under the shed and got stuck trying to find him. A neighbor lent us a haveaheart trap to try and relocate George. In the meantime, we created an alarming mishmash of fencing, firewood, garden tools and lawn chairs trying to block the dogs from getting at him and at the same  time channel him into the trap. Finally he took the bait (a nice piece of melon) and entered the cage. Aha, we got him! Okay, now what?

As we pondered the next step, George made a pleasant, undemanding guest, noshing quietly on melons and apples during the afternoon while perusing travel brochures. He indicated a desire to move south as so many of our neighbors are currently doing. Perhaps in his backyard rambles he has overheard good things about North Carolina. I did mention that Jesse Helms was no longer a factor, and we both silently cheered that fact.

George had problems understanding why anyone would begrudge him a few vegetables or a nice shrub or two. He was especially confused that the barky creatures who pestered him so were apparently allowed into my home burrow. Why them and not me, he asked. I had no good answer for him, I am too tactful to mention the pungent impact of his persona. He was also a bit peeved that they had broken into his home and in his words ‘mucked about with my things.’

However as the afternoon wore on and I realized that to transplant George in my tiny and ancient car would basically necessitate me removing him from his current accommodations and strapping him into the passenger seat, I looked for alternate transport. Once George learned that my car radio does not work and the a/c is iffy he also felt other options should be pursued. His driver arrived about 4 and off he went. I wish him well.