It's that time of year where Gus transforms into Caddyshack's groundskeeper, Carl Spackler. He wanders the yard mumbling incoherently. And the only thing that will make him happy is greasy, grimy gopher guts.
When we got home last night, the gophers looked like they were having a beach party. I fully expected to see tiny beach umbrellas, coolers and a little gopher volleyball game there were so many of them. This threw Gus into a complete tizz and he and the boys raided the garage for the gopher smoke bombs.
The neighbor, who was also out battling gophers, offered them his pellet gun. Being a city dweller, and a female, I just don't get it. (this reminds me of the guy at the hunter safety class who said his gun would turn the gophers into a "red mist") Watching them (the boys, that is) you would think they were on the trail of an 8 point buck, not a rodent that weighs mere ounces.
Watch out Carl, Gus is going to give you a run for your money. If I hear the strains of Kenny Loggins' "I'm Alright" and see a dancing gopher, I'm outta here.
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