Dangerous Woodland Creatures

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This is not going to be a weight loss blog. On the other hand this is my current obsession and I don’t want to lose momentum so, whatever. I have been walking the little woods everyday, cutting calories and kicking myself for all those lovely cheeseburgers I enjoyed at will over the last year. Sigh…. Cheeeeseburger.

It definitely feels like fall outside. The air is crisp and the woods smell like rotting leaves. There was no young hot trainer on the path this morning, only rabid chipmunks and squirrels. They are busy right now gathering bits for the winter. They were not happy to see me. They ran in front of me like turbo charged balls of fluff stopping to bare their Disney fangs at me. They chittered  obscenities from the tree tops and lobbed little sticks and stones onto the path below.

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“Get your fat middle aged ass behind me Satan!”

I understand. It is me that is all up in their space. So far I have yet to encounter the elusive and dangerous Urban Raccoon on my walk. This is awesome because I am scared to death of those things. Don’t make fun. They are dangerous predators. Two years ago a raccoon took a run at me when I went outback to retrieve my sweet but stupid cat. He is prime raccoon bait. They are seriously aggressive when they have kittens in tow. Ever since then I have been nervous at the sight of them.  Ever see the commercial where the woman needs new glasses and she ushers a raccoon into her room for a snuggle?

I begin jumping up and down and shaking my fists. That is not a cat you silly broad! You are going to die!

angry raccoon

That cute little Disney creature is going to make hamburger out of your ankles.  Possums are equally as terrifying up close but they are slow. An angry possum can be left in the dust by changing ones pace from an amble to a brisk walk. But at the end of the day it is nothing but a giant albino rat too stupid to run.  I once mistook a possum for my sweet but stupid cat sitting in the crook of a tree in front of our apartment in Burbank. I turned around and said “Aww Whiskey! What are you doing up there?”  And as I reached for my cat a possum the size of a small bear cub hissed at me and waved its nasty tail. I screamed. The possum did not move. In fact it sat there staring into our living room window for another two hours before it lumbered off. Undoubtedly it was plotting what evil and mischief it could cause if only it could remember how to move its feet.  Stupid possum. So as you can see every time I go into the woods on a quest for fitness I take my life into my own hands.

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Evil possum spawn of Satan with glowing eyes trying to remember how to jump so it can tear your face off.
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