“Don’t mess with me, pork chop. What day is this?”- “Groundhod Day”

As if the sudden and bloody death of his cousin, or sibling, or mother, or father last spring,( thanks to my dog who tossed the creature around like a furry chew toy), was not enough. I looked out the kitchen window two days ago and saw yet another Groundhog standing firmly on it’s hind legs and enjoying my perinials for breakfast. It knew I was looking right at it. It knew. And while keeping eye contact with me, it would grab another stalk and chew it down to a nub.

Oh, it’s on. It’s on.

And on a day of all days,when life is already tossing life things at me, before 10am. It stood there, eating my damn perinials.

I called over to my dog.

Otto, I said. It’s back! Or, it’s cousin, or sibling, or father or mother. It’s back.

Otto knew. He knew.

I opened the back door and Otto took off, certain the furry chew toy would be on for another round of toss.

It was faster than we thought and off it went in a flash, perinials trailing. Back underneath the shed it went.

Back to the hardware store I went. Clearly the chicken wire did nothing.

You need fox piss, he said.

Sorry?

Fox piss pellets. You need fox piss to sprinkle around-it keeps those whistle pigs away. Aisle 5.

Whistle pigs?

Groundhogs, woodchucks, works on rabbits too, he said.

But…..how does someone collect fox…piss?

Humanely. Whatever that means.

Said so on the canister. “no foxes were harmed in the collection of this urine”

I purchased a canister.

Wear gloves and stand down wind when you open the canister, he said.

I followed his advice as well as the guidelines on the canister.

I carefully opened the canister, gloved up, down wind.

There are no words to describe the wretched smell. No words. But sprinkle it I did, and almost vomit I did. For sure, no creature dare venture out beyond the fox piss border and into my perinials now!

And what do I see this morning? What do I see as rain is pouring down watering my perinials in prep for the scorching hot weekend ahead?

Hunkered down, way in the back, reaching up every so often to grab another stalk.

A whistle pig. Oblivious to the fox piss.