First, let me say that despite this week's tagline, we are not going to kill anything. Think of kill in its more mild sense, as in to get rid of. There just isn't a good K word that I can think of for that, and I am NOT going to go the way of krispy kreme and kwik kopy and put a K in front of a C word, such as kapture. That shit just ain't right. (If you can think of a more appropriate K word, then perhaps you should be the one writing the taglines.) So please, no hate mail. I do not advocate killing anything except maybe spiders, and that really is something for which I should repent. Believe me, nobody wants Grady the Groundhog to live a full and happy life more than I do.

So anyway, we've got this groundhog, Grady. And by "we've got" I mean he has chosen to take up residence under our deck. Grady is one fat ass groundhog. And by "fat ass," I mean if Grady and Punxsutawney were in prison, Punx would be Grady's bitch for sure. As groundhoggy-cute as Grady is, we'd really rather he not live under our deck. There are cables under there we fear he may chew. He burrows and we're just not really burrowing-type folks. Plus, the cats get very excited (and by "excited" I mean oddly disturbed) by Grady and fling themselves against the windows whenever he makes an appearance. Fat Ass Grady just really needs to go.

We're currently devising a scheme which will involve a trap, some sort of tempting food item, and a country ride in the back of a pickup truck. Really just a typical weekend night here in Redneck Valley.

To be continued...