Hunting widow

As of Wednesday morning, I will be a hunting widow.

My office/living area is covered with camo clothes and goodies. A shotgun is on my bed along with some ammo.

Army of Dad took the day off for the opening day of dove season. $80 went to purchase a little piece of paper that says he can legally shoot a number of God's creatures. Let's pray he actually shoots something tasty this year. We bought a freezer for the kills of Great White Hunter. Right now it is full of Schwan's "I don't have time to cook, but we have an hour before soccer practice" fare. I suppose if he shoots a wild hawg (as we say here in Texas) then I'll make room for some tasty sausage and bacon.

I remember coming home one evening to him cleaning a rabbit in my kitchen sink. My oldest looked at him with big doe eyes (pun intended) and asked him if it was the Easter Bunny. Thankfully, he thought before he spoke and said no. I think he knew he was never getting laid again if he told my son he shot the Easter Bunny.

Now, he must clean his dead critters outside. I dread the day I come home and find Bambi's mom hanging from the tree in my back yard. It will be my luck that the neighborhood coyote, skunk and possum will be in the backyard having a snack. Yuck.