My little brother was an excellent hunter. My mother was terrified of mice. Those two facts collided spectacularly the day he decided to clean and boil a squirrel in her favorite kitchen pot. A funny childhood story about family, city living, and the pot that never recovered.

When my dad shot a coyote in the yard and promptly left the country for work, my sister and I were left with the unforgettable task of dragging it an acre to the woods. It was exhausting, ridiculous, and the moment we both learned an oddly specific life lesson: if you ever need to bury a body… walk them there first.

As a kid, I thought kidnapping was inevitable. So we prepared the only logical way: duct-taping each other to a pole and seeing who could escape.