I propped the 22-250 in the corner of the dining room and kept checking early and late, whenever I could.
I was microwaving some pancakes and poaching a couple of eggs when I looked out the kitchen window and spotted her about 110 yards from the house.
I turned off the kitchen lights and told my wife, "There's that son of a bitch!"
My wife started to get up from the bar to go the window to look, and I said, "Don't you f'ing move!"
I grabbed the varminter and eased the side porch door opened. She turned and started back towards the woods, but I was already on her.
As soon I was sure she was down for good I came back and finished my breakfast project, ate breakfast, and then went and disposed of the flea-ridden, tick covered, nasty smelling bitch.
I'm sure there are more, but it feels to get a female out of the mix.
