I was so traumatized by this experience it's taken me a bit to write it down. Hang in with me, it's a gross one.
I was leaving for work a few weeks ago. I stepped out onto the front porch. Miss Molly (our former barn kitty, who tried life inside the house for awhile but likes it outside better) was sitting on the rocker waiting for me. She does this every morning. I greeted her, in my usual singsong voice, asked her how she was doing and then glanced down. Miss Molly had a small dead mole at the base of the rocker. I praised her for doing such a good job (this is how Roland evaluates how great of a barn cat they are based on the number of dead moles he finds), petted her then stepped back to shut the front door.
As I stepped back, I felt a kind of drop under my sandal, then a crunch, pop and then that sinking feeling. I looked down and saw lots of blood. I had stepped on the head of a dead (oh man I hope he was dead before that point) mole. Hey, I told you it was gross. I stared, then screamed and ran. I ran down the front walkway, yelling a swear word that I tend to use more since I live at the Farm and towards my car. I was afraid to look down. I was afraid its head would be looking back up at me. Or worse. He'd be on my toes. Again, I warned you this was gross.
I got into the grass and started shuffling the bottom of my feet to get it off. I didn't know what was on the bottom of my sandal. I was still too afraid to look. And it was jeans day at work - so I was wearing flat, open-toed sandals, not heels or anything. I didn't have much between me and the poor deceased mole.
After lots of wiping of my foot, still saying "fudge" (or something close to that) a lot and shaking from the heebie jeebies, I finally decided to just go to work. I was afraid to walk back up on the porch in case it came back after me zombie style. Plus I didn't see any blood or anything else gross on my toes.
Through all of this, Miss Molly just sat in the rocking chair. And I never spilled, not one single drop, the coffee in the mug in my hand. Even in panic, terror and chaos, I have my priorities.
Moral of the story - I never go out the door without looking down at the porch first. And beware of zombie moles. It could happen.