This guy was poised next to my side of the garage when I came home to Doright Manor from having lunch with a friend on Thursday.
I’d walked past him probably four or five times as I carried groceries into the house. As I hefted the last of the groceries, a 30 lb. container of cat litter, out of the trunk I happened to see him, after which I dropped the litter on my foot while screaming something unintelligible and most likely profane.
I think we’ll call this one, “Holy Effing Sh*t! It’s a Water Moccasin!”
Studly Doright came home and took care of the problem. I could have, but why take the chance of wounding his ego? Right? 😳😳😳