My father is still hanging in there.
This survival obviously a testament to the miraculous healing power of a 12 pack or more of Miller Liter consumption per day.
See, my father was diagnosed with colon cancer last November.
He had a very larger tumor removed shortly thereafter, tried then quit chemo, and is now dabbling with radiation and the aforementioned Miller Lite.
I came to see how he's doing earlier this week and remembering what a kick he got out of my bringing my game camera during my Christmas visit brought it again.
This time I was asked to place it on his late wife's rabbit feeder to see, "Just what the hell's eating me outta so much damn rabbit chow."
Here's what the cameras revealed.
"Ok. A cardinal. I got no problem with that."
"Son of'a bitch! Son. Of. A. Bitch! Why God made raccoons is beyond me!"
"Oh great! Now a possum! Why'm I feeding that little bastard?!"
"So I'm feeding at least one raccoon and one possum per rabbit. I don't exactly see what I'm getting outta this deal. I mean I never even see the damn rabbit until you get a picture of him."
"And to top it off the one rabbit I'm feeding ain't even that attractive. Enjoy your chow there Mr. Rabbit cuz it's the last bag I'm buying. I ain't paying to feed rats and coons! I'll spend that money on beer instead!"