Rick says to me, "Don't you want to come out to the shop and photograph the heart transplant for your blog?"
Later he says, "I think you'd better come out and take pictures soon, while you've got the best light. (Oh, and then I need you to steer while I push.)" I think he's starting to like the idea of this whole blog thing.
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And something under the "Twilight Zone" category:
As we were tucking Duke back into an outdoor spot and getting ready to drive Dutch into the garage for her part of the transplant surgery, a pick-up truck drove by the house reeeal slow. No biggie - I mean, there were two idiots pushing a car wreck around on an ice-covered driveway, and it was probably a good show. But a few minutes later I hear "crack! crack!" I look down the road, and there's a guy with a pick-up standing beside the road. I'm not a hunter, but I know what a .22 sounds like - so I yell "what's going on?" He
quickly gets back into his truck and drives away. Rick and I get the flashlight and walk down, and there's a freshly killed doe about 5 feet off the road.
Rick figures she'd been hit by a car and this guy put her out of her misery. But I called my neighbor to see if something should be done with the carcass (since they're a hunting family and know these things), and she said I'd need to call the sheriff to come and tag the body before anyone could take it. And when I called the sheriff, they got all excited about someone discharging a firearm and deer being killed out of season (no matter what the circumstances) and did I get the license plate (in deep country night, with the rear lights of the truck shining at me from 1/8 mile away) and "We'll have a deputy out there in 5 minutes" - which they did. Rick still figures it was the humane thing for someone to do, and the sheriff was getting over-excited. Personally, I'm reserving judgment, as I'm never a fan of strangers discharging firearms in the dark right outside my house, even assuming competence and positive intent.
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