Who let Chezzie out?I’m afraid I’m the culprit. I pushed open the door to get at the rest of his breakfast:
Astrid is busy laying an egg:
And—uh-oh—I don’t like the look of this. Whose fur is it?
OH! YUCK! Someone or something dragged a putrefied possum from under the barn!
I have one thing to say. . .
I hope they were wearing their haz-mat suit! 🐴