Is this the blood-splattered monster who casually murdered my two remaining chickens?
The way he strolled through the yard, uncaring, sauntering, arrogant. He fit the profile. Of course, he’d return to the scene of the crime–they always do.
He was the local apex predator, when I wasn’t outdoors defending my turf.
He made one sour order of Kung Pao.
* It’s a joke, people. That’s also chicken, store-bought.