The Dead Squirrel

I’ve discovered in the past six months that living in suburbia has its downsides, and that neighbors tend to be one of those. The other day when my fiancé was mowing in the back yard he came across a dead (wet) squirrel. Since the neighbors have a pool very close to our property line, he assumed they had fished it out and tossed it into our yard. In order to finish mowing, he flipped it back onto their side. A couple evenings later I could smell rotting flesh while I washed the dishes. By the next night, we had to turn the window fan to exhaust because of the stench.

So after work today I went looking for the source of the smell and found the dead squirrel directly beneath our kitchen window. Now obviously my fiancé was wrong to try to pawn the dead squirrel off on the neighbors, even if he thought they’d done the same to us (two wrongs not making a right, and all that jazz). But for them to then move it right beneath our window, that’s pure craziness.

Clearly, whoever said that bit about good fences making good neighbors knew what he was talking about.