There's been a battle brewing in our yard.
We used to have a nice lawn with lot's of wispy grass we called Pugtopia.
Until this beastly creature came along. The Gopher.
Now our yard looks like this...
Gunther pretty much sums up what we all think of this rat bastard gopher!
I keep shoveling dirt and rocks in the holes so the smushies don't step in one and hurt themselves while they're practicing wrestle mania, but the little terrorist can dig faster than I can keep up with him.
Finally, on Saturday, Gunther must have tripped or caught his leg in one of the booby traps left by the gopher and hurt himself. We took him to the ER vet on Sunday, but the vet on call didn't evoke the most confidence or reassurance. Our regular vet this morning determined that Gunther sprained his lower back muscles.
Oh momma's poor baby!
That's it! No one messes with my baby! Time to call in reinforcements.
It's Super Daddy!
I'm a wuss. So Bruce had to set the traps.
Underneath that Begonia pot and tied to that rope is a world of hurt waiting for the terrorist.
That's right Gunther baby. Momma is handing out lollipops and ass whoopins' and today I'm all out of lollipops...
Gunther was prescribed a nice anti-inflammatory and 2 weeks of no activity.
What? Two weeks of no wrestle mania?
The girls promised to keep Gunther man company. I think they're really sitting court side, waiting to see what happens with the terrorist.
Dr. Stephens said Gunther didn't do any permanent damage to his back, but he sure is sore. As much as we hate to do it, the gopher has to go.
That's right gopher. We're coming for you!
The Smushies' Daddy and Momma.