Shroom and a Slug Story


The return of the rains (however temporary, since we are currently afflicted with sunshine) prompted a return of mycelium parachutes, too. Of course, every time I see a mushroom now, I have to take a picture or two and forward it to the Selkie for one of her upcoming projects. I suspect she wishes I weren’t quite so enthusiastic, but that’s usual.

I must mention, after this morning’s constitutional Odd Trundles found out leopard slugs are not Good For Eating. Miss B investigated one on the path in the rose garden, and of course, with her nose down Odd thought she had found something snackable. Which meant he had to get in on that, because if there is anything even remotely edible to be had, his entire world narrows to getting said remotely edible thing down his gullet.

I let out a faint remonstrance, hauling on the leash, but his vorpel-jaws went snicker-snack…and he immediately spat the slug out, then tried to get the taste out of his capacious mouth by alternately barking and smacking his jowls. Loudly. Miss B, of course, seeing he’d spit something out, now became bound and determined to get her share of the snack, and lunged for the poor slug, who probably thought he’d been thrust into (a very damp, warm) hell without a Virgil.

…so, yeah, it took a little while to restore order and get both of them into the backyard. Whereupon Odd began to scuttle around and eat grass, probably to get the taste out of his mouth, and Miss B had to herd him, of course, because she had not given him permission for this activity.


The slug seemed relatively unfazed, but since their language is neither plant nor vertebrate, I couldn’t figure out if it was troubled or just simply overwhelmed. Either way, here, have a picture of a mushroom, and I’m just glad I didn’t have to fish a slug out of my poor, sweet, stupid bulldog’s mouth before coffee.

Or after, for that matter.