This afternoon I had an urge to go out back and see exactly how tall the weeds that have been growing unattended for the last seven months are, and I wish I would have had a camera on my person, as I normally do.
At first, I thought it was my dog that was playing hide and go seek with me from behind the stainless steel BBQ in the side yard and I called out to her. What I saw next is still making me want to burn down my apartment complex, change my name and move to Bali where the only thing I'll have to worry about is a couple of Kimodo dragons and being the whitest, most obese person in the tiny disease ridden country.
It had short brown hair and a long wiry tail. This creature had the body of a large mouse and the head of a small dog. I have never seen a goiter up close and personal before, but I imagine that whatever this mass of skin and hair was that was hanging from this poor animal's face, was a goiter. The head was at least a full ten inches in diameter, swollen and tight, like a ready-to-pop zit on a thirty year old man's back. It had a slow, steady and purposeful stride. It paused gracefully and turned it's engorged face toward mine. The creature's eyes gazed right to the core of everything that I fear. Small, fury animals, rat-esque creatures, goiters...
He, well, I'm guessing it was a male, looked at me with such intensity that I forgot how to move. At this point my chihuahua realized there was an intruder walking through her territory and sniffed at him furiously. It didn't phase him a bit. I was in awe. How could a creature of such tiny stature not be affected by a humongous predator such as a chihuahua? I tried in vain to flip open my phone and get to the camera option to take a quick picture so my husband would not think I was some crazed lunatic making up a story about a mutant mouse in our side yard. The mutant gained his composure and started toward the wooden fence that separates our back yard to the neighbors and in a flash, he was gone from my life, my eyesight and shooting range.