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The Bang Bang Theories

Right in the P-Hole

What you see here, Reader, is evidence of my belief not to believe in labels.

Sometimes.

Situationally. You know, when there’s not a lot of risk at stake – we’re not going to go around ripping labels off of mattresses and pillows and just la-la-la wait and see what happens! No sirree. We’re not crazy like that over at Chez Bang Bang.

But sometimes – sometimes – I go rogue and throw caution to the wind, all laissez faire with my attitude. Because I’m a casual hipster.*

*READER! I was just going to make a funny haha little jokie and type “middle-aged suburban cat lady” and as I was typing “middle-aged” I realized – shocking and also hurtfully – that NO ONE WOULD CLASSIFY ME AS MIDDLE-AGED any longer, as NO ONE would expect me to live to 108 AND WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT ABOUT, LIFE!!!

It’s super jolting when you realize – like I did JUST NOW – that I’m well past middle-aged and here I am talking about shirking labels and I’m mad about my own label.

These are the holes we dig ourselves into, Reader, when we start thinking too much.

Speaking of unsavory holes ~ we have now segued into unsavory hole territory, but don’t fret, we will circle back ’round to labels ~ this unsavory hole has appeared in my flower bed right by my front porch, in the area where Taco the Blind Raccoon would swing by for her meals.  I say “would” because we haven’t seen our old blind girl in a couple of weeks now, and I’m hoping she pops by soon.

I noticed this unsavory hole a couple ah days ago, and I know exactly who the culprit is: a groundhog who’s also made a home under my shed.

I’ve done a little research to try to determine exactly how assholie groundhogs can be, because as I live up against the ravine, I expect there will be mucho animals traipsing about the yard and yes, several of them frequently dine at Trixie’s Cafe, and yes, I realize Trixie has created some of her own problems. However, she’s also going to try to find her own solutions.

I had My Mister fill the hole back in and hoped that would deter the critter.

It did not, and in fact he laughed and laughed right in our face and then flung that dirt even further and went in even deeper.

Reader. I can’t have this burrow here. He has plenty of backyard ravine to go dig around in.

Thanks so Almighty Google, I discovered there are several products you can buy that you fill in their holes with, and also cover it with some heavy steel net stuff and it should work to relocate their asses.

I also read a possibly easier solution, and as Trixie is a tich on the lazier solution side, she wanted to try this first.

This solution says that groundhogs and other diggy-want-to-live-in-a-hole critters can be deterred by the smell of urine, and it recommended putting some clumps of cat pee in the hole and then covering it up.

It got me to thinking ~~ taps nose with index finger in a pondering move ~ if I only knew where I could find some cat pee……

Aha!! Luckily, Trixie’s six three bad cats PEE A LOT and sometimes it’s even in their litter boxes, where she could scoop it right up, freshly made to order!

Yesterday I scooped out some pee clumps and poured them down the hole, covering it back up all unsuspecting like, for this groundhog to get an unpleasant cat pee surprise, much like I do. Hey, if you want to live at Chez Bang Bang, you’ve got to deal with the unexpected cat pee. I don’t make the rules. The six three asshole cats do.

Eager to see if my cat pee trap worked as a deterrent, I jumped outta bed at the crack of 10:30 and much to my delight I saw this:

There was an initial flinging of the dirt, but then it stopped almost as soon as it began.

I wouldn’t be nearly as annoyed if this groundhog dirt digger was working WITH me. I’ve been mostly thinking with just a little bit of doing about putting in a flagstone patio on this side of the porch.

As you can see, we have left off in the digging phase of the project, because my yard is filled with hard-as-fuck-to-dig-up rocks.

If that groundhog was a true friend of the family, he’d be digging his holes on this side of the porch, and then he might actually get a treat from Trixie’s Cafe.

Instead he’s getting a pee-clump surprise shoved right into his dirt hole house.

Let that be a lesson for you, Reader. If you’re not here to work WITH us, we will shove unpleasant smelly things right in your hole.

Wait, I don’t think that’s the message I’m trying to send.

What I meant to say is,  “Your help is greatly appreciated and oftentimes rewarded with a sandwich.”

If this pee hole continues to act as a groundhog deterrent, I am going to market this stuff in little baggies and make my fortune and travel to space. Or the beach. Probably the beach. Natural, organic outdoor diggy-pesk repellent will be the marketing strategy.  Stop over. Don’t mind the smell. It’s nature at work.

Now, back to the original intent of this post, which rambled this train completely off it’s track.

Nevermind. I’ve already said too much. We may or may not get back to that flower at a later date. Believe me, you’ll be fine with or without this knowledge.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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