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The Last Time

The last time I remember shooting an
animal was with my
son. We were in our back yard, and I saw

a chipmunk moving around off in the
distance. Now, there
are tons of chipmunks and squirrels and

raccoons near our house, the chipmunks
mess everything up,
eat everything in sight, they’re like rats.

So I pulled out my rifle, aimed at that
vermin at the edge
of my property line. Shot it. Killed it.

My son, no more than twelve or thirteen
at the time, was
halfway toward the chipmunk, walking

through the yard. And he just stood there.
When I walked up
to him, he turned around and looked at

me and asked, “Why?” And I had no answer.
I couldn’t give him one.
And that was the last time I shot an animal.

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