Beth casually mentioned at book club that there might be a dead dog in our neighbor's backyard.
"Or maybe it's a log. I couldn't tell."
Beth explained that while reconnoitering our vacationing friend's house, she came within 5 feet of something-not-right and fled.
Fueled by a bit of the champagne we are known to enjoy at book club, we made plans to investigate just as soon as we got home.
Then we reconsidered.
We are nothing if cautious (bordering on scaredy).
The next morning, I met up with Beth to investigate this dead dog/log in the neighbor's yard.
"That's it," she pointed.
"Well, it's not breathing," I replied many seconds later.
No entrails, which one might expect in this wooded area. There are coyotes about. And it is 12 fricking degrees.
But there was something about the paws.
Vinyl. And oozing stuffing.
Stupid stuffed animal.
Artfully posed and frozen to the ground.
And no, we have no idea how it came to be there.