I don’t like moles, but I want to pet them.
Up until yesterday, I’d only ever seen dead moles and moles being attacked by a cat. Maybe that is why I never realized what nice, soft, velvety-looking fur they have. (I should have known. That Thumbelina book I had to read 57 times tried to marry the girl off to a mole, and the book said the mole had a great coat. Why didn’t I believe?) Everything is different now that I have seen two moles in as many days, alive and on the surface, scratching around in the lawn. (Perhaps it was the same mole twice. If I see another, I will try to paint my initials on its back with fingernail polish.) I thought moles stayed underground, but maybe the ground is too wet for them after this weekend’s deluge. Or, as we call it around here, “The Storm That Ate Half Our Driveway.” Maybe these are stupid moles or sick moles or lost moles. What do I know about moles?
Oh right, they have really pretty fur. Luckily for my (still intact) fingers, moles also have freakish alien feet and a creepy nose that looks and moves like a worm trying to get out of its head. I suddenly just now wondered if that was really a mole I saw, what with the whole mole/vole thing. Holy cow. Do not do an image search on “mole.” The creepy dermatological images and the not-so-appetizing-looking food aside, there are some FREAKY looking moles. My moles, in comparison, are beauty queens. I’m still not going to find out if that fur is as luxurious feeling as it looks.
I had to get rid of the mole. It was way too close to what could possibly be in some days or weeks an actual vegetable garden. Now that Buddy is gone, I am the mole-inator here. Problem is, I am very bad at killing things (stink bugs aside). So, I did what any normal person would do and scooped the mole up with a shovel, put it in an empty flower pot, and left it in the shade under the picnic table for Andy to deal with when he got home. Problem. Andy was already home. Barfing his guts out. He didn’t seem very interested in dealing with my furry friend. I decided to get rid of the mole by moving it far, far from my garden.
Plan A: Carry the mole way to the far end of our property up by the road and let it loose.
Problem: I was creeped out by the idea of carrying the flower pot that far with the alien-fur-coat-creature scrabbling up the sides. Plus, I’m lazy and that’s a long walk.
Plan B: Put the flower pot (mole and all) into the car, and drive it to the end of the property.
Problem: I was even more creeped out by the idea of that creature escaping and hiding in my car.
Plan C: Move the mole across to the other side of the yard and toss it over the fence into the neighbor’s hay field.
Problem: I felt stupid even thinking that a barbed wire fence would keep the mole off our property, and I felt bad about putting the creature on someone else’s property.
In the end, I pitched it over in a corner of the yard near the fence and used my mental powers to encourage it to head for the hay and never return. I bet I’ll see it again tomorrow. If I do, it better like hot pink because I don’t think the pale blue would go well with its coat.
