The Pond

We've just recently moved to Florida. Which I always want to type a "y" at the end like it's Friday. Which is kinda what every day feels like here. So, Floriday it is. We are renting a very pretty home in a nice little village community. My husband, we'll call him Troy, picked out the place on his own. I might add he did an excellent job. One of the main features I love is that the main living room has french doors that lead to the back porch/yard.  This nice little village community has a pond on every block. Ours just happens to be in the back yard.

I think four years ago, I would have been able to sit on the back porch and just enjoy the view. Maybe even call that my favorite spot. Out of the sun, nice breeze, water close by.  But now I'm a freak. Paranoid. Edgy. Nervous. Now I am A Mother. All I can think about is that there is the potential for gators in that pond.  We've been in our new house for almost two weeks, and when the girls are sleeping, and Let's Call Him Troy is not around, I sit in his office and watch for eyes poking out of the water. I have yet to see any. But after seeing missing kitty posters (three different ones) hung on the lightposts around the block, I decided to conduct a neighborhood poll.

And by neighborhood, I mean the two ladies that were nice enough to come over and introduce themselves a few days ago. Let's call them Carrie and Alice. Mainly because those are their real names. I digress. Carrie has two little girls, just a touch older than our girls, and she's from a Great Lakes state so I trust her judgement immediately. She tells me that she and her daughters were on a walk last winter and saw a gator in the pond across the street from her house. She says they stood there and watched it for a while. Not going anywhere near it, but just watching it hang out. She also says that they are not that big of a deal if you just stay clear of them and let them be. So now I am convinced that there is most definately a gator in our pond. I also rethink immediately trusting someones judgement just because they are from the North.

Normal people would probably look at our french doors with the water view and feel a sense of relaxation. I look at them and can feel my shoulder muscles tighten, while the wheels start turning in my mind about how I can get locks on the top of the door that The Taz can't reach.  Tonight I will be praying that The Taz and Bear Cub don't run out the back and get eaton by a gator. Oh Dear God.