RIP, Gus

Saturday afternoon, I was out in the front yard weeding the flowerbeds, and I saw all the neighborhood kids congregating across the street, in the vacant lot where the hill drops down. “It’s a beaver! A beaver!” they kept shouting excitedly. I knew it had to be my old quasi-nemisis, Gus the Groundhog.

I first met Gus shortly after I moved in. This big, furry brown thing was hanging out in the side yard, attracting Collette’s glare. Since then, I’ve seen him several times, always puttering around. I’ve almost hit him a few times at night, turning into the dark driveway.

I never had any real reason to dislike Gus, but I worried about him digging into the garage. My neighbor said the groundhogs must have a den in the side of the hill.

But Saturday, Gus met his fate on the side of the road. Don shooed away the kids and shoveled the roadkill into the woods.

Or maybe it wasn’t Gus. We’ll never know.