Recently, we have been plagued on our morning walks.
It all started a few weeks back, with the unfortunate death of a young deer. We don't know how the deer died, only that our dogs discovered the carcass and found it irresistible. It may be the most exciting thing they have ever seen, smelt, eaten. To we mere humans, this carcass may appear unutterably disgusting, a foul, stench-ridden harbinger of doom. To our dogs; manna from heaven.
After a while, scavengers had pretty much taken the deer leaving only a few scraps. Which is where our problem began. When we were out in the woods early one morning, we called our dogs away from the area that we knew held the deer remains. They all came, but one was not alone. In her mouth, she held what become known as the highest prize of all. The Zombie Hoof. So called because despite our best efforts to dispose of the Hoof it keeps coming back.
The Hoof has been thrown in a tree. A short while later it was back in a dog's mouth, being paraded about.
The Hoof was buried in the woods, but sure enough, a while later there it was. Covered in dirt and dog slobber. The Hoof.
Quite frankly, our nerves are shot. I fully expect to be sat at my desk at work, only to suddenly hear a *tap tap tap* at the window. Zombie Hoof! It's like that bit at the end of the horror movie where the monster JUST REFUSES TO DIE. Except it's already dead.
It's affecting our lives. We used to have such lovely conversations on our early walks. Now they all go a little like this.
"I really liked that butterscotch tart it was totally GAH! Zombie Hoof!"
"Good boy. Now leave it."
and so on.
And just when we thought that matters couldn't get any worse, one of the dogs found Zombie Skull this morning......