Mole

So, I'm driving home down our street and I see this brown fuzzy thing jiggling it's way across the road. I thought is was a kid prank (you know, those little furry non-pet type things on a string, and as soon as you bend down to get a closer look, some fat freckle-faced kid yanks the string) but then I saw it was a mole. There are really cute, you know. So I pick it up and go to my neighbor whom I have never met, and who is working in his garage, for help. Then the mole bites me. Then I drop it on it's very cute little head. Then it's flopping around like it has a broken back. Then I start crying saying, " I killed it" "I broke it's back". My neighbor is saying "Oh I think he's ok". Ya, right! So he says "lets give him a little help", and digs a little hole. Is he really helping him or just burying him so I don't know it's dead. He puts a bucket over the mole in the divot/grave and I decided to pull myself together and introduce myself. His name is Clay and he's really quite cute too! And, he has a beautiful dog named Clement. And I'm definitely NOT dating. Not for another eleven months, at least. I went back over to check on the mole and thought I should probably take him to my backyard since most people enjoy killing moles as opposed to putting them in their garden. Then on the way home, I'm thinking that Dizzy is sure to find it so maybe Lester next door ( you know the hippy santa clause) wouldn't mind taking on the project. Problem came when Lester wasn't home, but I left the mole in his front yard anyway on a pile of fresh dirt with a bucket over it. I hope there's a hole in the bucket, dear Lizza, dear Lizza..........