Bitterly clinging to my gun

I found one of the backyard wood-rats yesterday and --almost-- nailed him with my varmint gun. He was just a tad too fast for me. And Bijou is no help; she's the chickenest dog you ever met. She might bark at a burglar but she'll run and hide too.

But I ain't-a skeered. We've got all kinds of varmints running loose in this hick town... skunks... possums... rats... and the ubiquitous skwerls, of course. Nevermind that we live a block from Interstate 35, where heaven knows who might be driving through on less-than-honorable intentions. I don't intend to disarm myself anytime soon. In fact, I'm pretty seriously thinking it's time to add to the arsenal.

I think Obama might want to pry my varmint gun from my hands, though.





I'd like to see him come try.