Pickles the Law Dog. AKA GIB; Six; Wingwoman

This is too good not to share but not appropriate for younger viewers. On New Year’s Eve morning, Pickles and I launched for a USPS mission to deliver some more love letters to the VA from my Veterans. Our journey takes us down to Key Center-approximately 4.5 miles south of our casa. Wait. Is that cultural appropriation to use the word “casa”? Just kidding…maybe. Pickles immediately hopped in the back seat area and tried to excavate the passenger front seat from behind. Much digging and growling ensued. I figured she’d lost her ball. Negatory.

After she returned to the front seat, I opened the center console to remove a mini Butterfinger bar. It’s for the mail lady… er…. Postal delivery associate? I put them in the mailbox and flip the flag up to remind her. She’s partial to them and it gets me excellent service. I looked down as I approached the mail box and discovered Pixie and Dixie had found the candy bars – not just inside the Expedition- but inside my console. I’m a little confused. I don’t recall leasing out residential space in my rig. They’re probably homeless. At any rate, we (Pickles, Pixie, Dixie and I) proceeded to the USPS.  After our postal ablutions were consummated, I immediately sashayed over to what passes for our local hardware store and  picked up a couple of traps…er… harvesting devices (mouse guillotines?). We departed home to the LZ. I found what I suspected was the ingress point to the console and plugged it with Cupcake Kleenex. What? Your significant other leaves home without a box of Kleenex and a fresh roll of toilet paper? GTFOOH!

I set up the ambush on the floor on my side so Pickles wouldn’t jump in and step on it. This morning on the way out to feed the horses, success greeted my efforts. Pixie est morte.

Pixie or Dixie?

However, when I looked in the glove box to make sure they hadn’t been back in there, I was shocked. The little buggers not only had gotten in and chowed down but they slipped through what could only be a 3/8″X 3/8″ portal. I couldn’t get my middle finger in it and I have petite, aristocratic digits- or so I’m told.

Sensing Dixie is still afoot and may even have pitched a tent under the seat by now, I dug a new Punji pit with fresh extra sharp cheddar.  I dutifully invoiced the mousetraps and candy bars as a business expense. News and film on this developing story at Six tonight right here on the asknod network.

P.S. Great news! I found Dixie this morning. Now I have to wonder about their offspring.

PP.S.  Pickles was put in the laundry room this AM because we have the burglar alarm folks over for a revamp of the fire alarm system. She found my spare mouse entrapment device and “remodeled” it for me.

P.P.P.S.

Don the 1st SOG Vet 11 Bravo F4P I represent out in Wyoming has a burning question he wants answered.

Weren’t Pixie and Dixie both guys? And if so, were they in a committed, monogamous relationship? Inquiring minds want to know…

Well, Don. I gave that some thought and went back out to the trash can. I took a gander at Dixie’s privates and to be truthful, my eyesight isn’t that good. I’d hate to hazard a guess because mice aren’t my strong suit. And, truth be told, I didn’t look at Pixie’s unmentionables before I gave her/him it’s Last Rites and interred it either, Don. In sum, I can’t say that Pixie wasn’t Dixie or vice versa. I put in a new Claymore and will report back soon. We have a good magnifying glass in the office here so perhaps you could give me some pointers on identifying a Pix from a Dix.