I've Got Crabs.

Hurricane Irma dropped a lot of debris on our yard, which we've mostly gotten picked up. The exception is the bajillions of land crabs that now populate my lawn. I'm not sure if they washed up from the intracoastal, which isn't far from where we live, or if they simply fell from the sky as a precursor to full-blown apocalyptic doom. Whatever the case, they're everywhere. 

For awhile I was seeing them on the roads, skittering for their lives to avoid being squashed beneath my uncaring tires. Before they're squashed, they look like this: 



They're actually kinda cute in a creepy 8-legged, big-clawed, crabby sort of way. They wouldn't bother me all that much if it weren't for one minor problem: My dogs love them.

Have I shown you my dogs? Cavaliers. They're cute, they're fluffy, and since we have two of them, they look like adorable little twin book-ends. Here's one of them enjoying a root beer:

 

Anyway, it turns out that two-weeks-dead land crab is a delicacy in some dog cultures. Who knew? The result is that what used to be our serene, early morning pee-walk with our precious little Fluffy and Muffy has turned into a snarling death match to see which of them can find the first clump of rotting, stinking crab flesh and sink their choppers into those oh-so-satisfying crunchy shells. 

This of course necessitates wrestling the little bastards to the ground and prying open their little jaws of death long enough to dig the fetid morsel out of their throats. Usually while screaming 'DROP IT DROP IT DROP IT," to little or no avail. 

Oh, and you get extra points if the crab is still somehow miraculously alive and fighting for what's left of its life. All of this at 5 AM before most civilized people have opened their eyes, but all in a day here at Crabby Manor.