Tonite on Fox, a young woman is brutally savaged by a donkey.
We went to Hodges Gardens yesterday and had an utterly wonderful day snapping photos of roses and assorted flowers, even tho the rainstorm of the previous night apparently hit there too, because most of the roses wore empty hips rather than flowers, but enough was there, along with the herb garden and the antique rose garden that it was a really nice trip. It also seemed to be the trip that my wife was destined to be devoured on.
See, we had forgotten the trip from here to Bumfuck, LA was the better part of an hour and a half, and none of us had eaten. Even Vulgar Wizard (the adoptive daugher who thoughtfully drove us up and back) hadn't eaten anything but a tiny bowl of cereal, and she's usually better prepared than that. So the outcome was that when we arrived, instead of heading right to the gardens we decided to find the little lunch barn that used to be off to the side of the Gardens proper. Which no longer exists, apparently, but it put us alongside the fields area where they raise buffalo or beefalo or something like that, and four really cute donkeys.
Which we had to stop and pet.
The last thing I remember hearing clearly from the wife was "Oooh, his lips are so soft! Ooh, he's nibbling on my fingertips! OH MY GOD HE'S BITING ME!!!"
That's how it went. One second a three-foot tall two-foot wide Eeore replica has his face pressed up against the fence to garner some attention, next second he's trying to pull the wife through the fence and into his compound where he planned to devour her whole. I look over and see him savaging her hand, and all I can think is "Damn, I left the camera in the truck."
When her finger came clear of his gnashing teeth I heard a "clomp" of big molars coming together under lots of pressure. Old boy was SERIOUS. Me, I couldn't be serious after seeing no blood and ten fingers, and poor Wizard and I both liked to have fell out laughing. Aaah, the memories. After a brief finger count and inspection of the wound (donkeys carry rabies, every one of them. And ebola.) we got back on the road.
Thus ensued the Day of Being Bit.
First it was the donkey. Then it was an anole that she insisted on catching. Then it was the two giant cottonmouth moccasins that we watched moving around in the 250 acre lake that borders the Gardens. Then it was the fingerling Bream in the little creeks and byways of the gardens. After that it was a feral crawfish. And a giant red wasp. The only thing that didn't bite her that day was the giant geese that usually hang out around the Modern Rose Garden, and the only reason they didn't manage a beak-full was that they were conspicuously absent.
Aah the memories.