That damned river otter came out of the, well… river… this morning. With the angry haze of rabid rage still clouding his vision, he narrowed his beady little eyes at me, tipped his (MY!) safari hat at me and then flipped… me… OFF. Elli was watching and she popped up and flung her football tee at him, knocking the safari hat off. She ran as fast as only that little white tornado can, grabbed my hat, and punched him in the stomach. HAH. The only thing that has me worried is the thought that only time will tell how fast a rabid river otter retaliates and to what degree his wrath shall be stirred. I’m keeping my safari hat under lock and key and my trusty little white tornado at my side for at least 17 days.
Rip it – roll it – punch it, dude.