The Death Quack

Anyone who reads this blog on a semi-regular basis probably knows that I am obsessed with the Montauk Monster and all Plum Island escapees. You may have also noticed that I am afraid of Mountain Lions and have recently threatened coyotes across Connecticut. So, you can imagine what ran through my mind tonight when I was nearly killed by a mystery creature.

Ok, so I wasn’t actually almost killed…other than the near heart attack but it was still pretty freaky. I live in a very weird place. It’s on a main road with a lot of traffic but also in the middle of nowhere. There’s a farm, some woods, office buildings, but no real neighbors. So when I come home after dark and haven’t remembered to leave the porch light on it’s more than a little creepy. There might be an ax-murderer in my yard but there might also be a bear, so the late night trip from the car to the front door is always nerve racking.

On this particular occasion I had a bunch of groceries in the car, so I made one trip inside with the frozen goods and then fed my starving cats. And then we heard it…

It sounded a little like a quack, and a lot like something dying. Ruby (my smarter cat) heard it and spun around, looking straight at the linen closet. I was horrified and said to her, “What the f*ck is in the closet?” But at least when I thought the noise was coming from inside the house I figured whatever was making it could be killed by a cat.

Then we heard it again and Ruby and I simultaneously turned toward the kitchen window and hustled on over there. Unfortunately, the yard is completely pitch black. Being a cat with excellent night vision she may have been able to see what was making the death-quack, but I couldn’t see a damn thing…and I still had groceries in the car. Not sure what to do, I called my mom.

Now, my mom has often been helpful in these situations but dogs have been even more helpful. Take, for instance, the time Duke–my trusty German Shepherd–alerted my mother to the fact that I was standing in the front yard afraid of the possum that was hanging out behind the hay bale on the steps, and then later helped us make damn sure the little sucker was gone. This time, since I am dogless, Mom suggested I call the police. I did not like the idea of harassing even the most bored policeman with a call about an animal in my backyard.

Rather than bother my local police, I made my mom stay on the phone with me as I ran out to the car for my groceries all the while saying, “This is so scary. I need to move. This is scary. Please stay away, monster. I wish I had a dog. I wish I had a dog. I wish I had a dog.”  Once I was safely back inside with my groceries I breathed a sigh of relief. By then the death quacking had stopped, but I still couldn’t figure out what the hell had been in my backyard.

Then I remembered the raccoon fight that happened outside the PrissyBitch’s bedroom window so I called her.

Me – “Something is being killed in my backyard.”

PB – “What?”

Me – “Something is making a horrible noise in my yard. What did your raccoon fight sound like?”

PB – “Like something being killed in my backyard.”

Me – “This kind of sounds like ‘ack ack’!”

This went on for awhile, and nothing was resolved. In the end, I still didn’t know what to make of the disembodied death quack. Several minutes had gone by without a peep from the dying platypus or whatever it was, so I decided not to give it too much more thought. That being said I won’t be surprised if in the morning, I find a dead goat in the yard with the mark of the chupacabra.

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