In one of those rare years that would allow even the most unobservant dullard the opportunity to scratch their heads in awe and wonderment, the area mole population of Lamont (or are they in fact 'Voles' - and is there really a difference?), never modest in the worst of years, is experiencing some sort of rodent-like "baby boom' or whatever as the doggone things are pushing up mounds of dirt all over town, even in the 'sanctum sanctorum' of Lamont itself - the town's only park. (Unlike that fancy Rockford, Lamont does not have its own doggone fairgrounds for the dern rodents to turn into Swiss cheese!) "Well, on the one hand my yard looks pretty much like the surface of the moon, but on the other hand I have not had to buy cat food since early April!" said Skeeter Bodine, 63, a man obviously able to grasp the thorns with the rose. "I mean, sure, it kind of gives me the creeps to think that below the whole dern town is some vast expanse of tunnels just chalked full of the cute little beggars, but on the other hand I spend most of my time above ground, at least for the time being, anyway! So it really doesn't affect me very much, although my stupid doctor keeps bleating endlessly to me about my quite prodigious pork consumption and the gallon and a half of buttermilk I drink per day or whatever. (But who can eat a whole bag of pork rinds without a delicious glass or two of room temperature buttermilk, for crying out loud?) Plus, those darn moles give me yet another excuse for my yard looking like a proverbial 'pig's breakfast', now don't they? So, if you think about it, I am saving a fortune on cat food and I finally managed to get my doggone, goody-two-shoes, garden-happy neighbors off my back for once! So, on some level, I would have to say this has been a pretty good year" he said thankfully. "I do wish the mosquitoes were a little worse so I could have something to gripe about to the mayor, but one has to take life's opportunities as they come and not get too greedy, I guess" he concluded sagely. "Well, nothing in the whole doggone world scares the bejeebers out of me more than some cute, fuzzy, decidedly terrified little bundle of fur about 1/1000th my size and weight" said Erma Festoon, 56, from behind her protective perfume cloud that could stop a charging, enraged grizzly bear cold in its tracks at 30 paces. "If you think about it, irrational fears of that sort is what makes it so fun to be an adult. I mean, with all that bill paying and having to listen to all those unfortunate noises my husband makes, I rarely get a chance to relive my largely unmemorable childhood - but freaking out and running around the yard with my arms flailing above my head just seems to bring back those halcyon days of my youth when I didn't have a care in the world. I am a little concerned over how my cat, Scooter, is bulking up, however. He has been pretty much chewing non-stop since I let him out in early spring - although you could not tell that by the almost embarrassing number of mole hills in my yard. One would think that the darn cat hadn't caught a single thing all year - at least until you try to pick him up... Whew.. Good thing I don't have to take him back to the vet for his yearly checkup until March. That will give me the winter to get some of that mole weight off of him so I don't have to endure the 'stink eye' from the vet when they force me to put Scooter on the scale" she said pensively.
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