Did I Ever Tell You The Story...


... about when a mountain lion ate my dog?

You see...
 my parents live in Dallas, Texas. 

Right smack dab in the middle of the city.

I grew up five minutes from the Galleria,
but the plot of land I grew up on
sits on a giant flood plain 
that (by law) can't ever be developed.

A creek extends through the plain
 creating some gorgeous ravines and
offering some untouched relief from the busy metroplex.




But here's the thing:

As this city grows bigger and denser,
this forgotten area is becoming a bit of a wildlife shelter.

Coyotes are constantly cruising the field,
bobcats and their babies are always tumbling in the hedges,
and snakes slither their way into our pool in the summer heat.

No big deal, right?

Right.

But everything took a turn for the worst
when we returned from Italy last year 
to the shocking news that our yorkie-poo, Winston, 
had been eaten on my parents back porch 
by a mountain lion.

a. mountain. lion.

{also know as a "cougar"}
I agree. Winston WAS the cutest thing ever.

No one was quite sure what had happened 
until a tracker, sent by the city, 
found it's enormously huge and scary paw prints
in the flower beds by the pool.

Obviously, we were devastated.

I got a phone call upon landing at O'Hare
and proceed to sob pathetically after hearing the news
{like, the snotty, gasping, ugly kind}
all the way home to Dallas.

A year and half later,
 I'm okay.

To be honest- 
I have no clue how I would exist in England 
taking care of a dog right now.

But even that journey of self-healing couldn't prepare me 
to find THIS at my feet last night
while chatting on the back porch.






A tarantula?

Sick. Ew. Gross. Blech.

Is a tarantula better or worse than a mountain lion?

I really don't know,
but I do know this:


England is free of natural disasters and poisonous animals.

Take me home, country roads.



*all photos original to Aspiring Kennedy
Posted on May 27, 2011 and filed under "live", "summer".