Rok wasn’t lying when he said I’d been communing with nature more recently. We have quite a few creatures come into the back yard. Some of which don’t make sense. I can only guess that some of the animals from the zoo got out besides the lion. My favorite is a fallow deerling that showed up into our yard like a little disney cartoon. I never really appreciated Disney until the apocalypse. Once the shits hit the fan, all the hidden dicks and subliminal messages in the world can’t outweigh some cute innocent, non flesh eating forest animals. Aww, yiss. I feed the fawn, who I affectionately call Pancake, fruits and some vegetables from our farm. I had to find a wiki answer for “what do deer eat?” He’s been visiting for quite a while now, and he comes every day for some salad. Vegetarianism has become a quality I look for in my animals, which was why I was upset this morning to find Pancake eating a zombie that had crawled out to die on our lawn. It didn’t seem to die well, from what I could see, its hard to tell which wounds are new. So much for Disney. I sort of hissed at the fawn like a dog, “No. No stop that, Pancake. Bad Pancake,” and he looked up and did this little two step hoppy dance over the body. I put a pile of carrots down on the grass, and perched near the door. I had gotten him to come to me before, but I wasn’t taking any chances. We had seen animals get bitten by zombies in the past that just shook them off and continued their business like nothing happened. But still. Pancake looked a little creepy with his big doe eyes and bloody mouth. He ate everything really quickly, and i realized I hadn’t fed him yesterday…or the day before that. I felt guilty, but I didn’t realize that I was his main source of food. Would Bambi would have been more disturbing if the mother got devoured by a zombie instead? I looked a little closer at the body, and it didn’t look like Pancake had broken the skin, just snuffled around in the clothes. I went to the side of the house and pulled out the hose, turning it on and calling over the bloody fawn. Then there was this sort of terrifying moment where Pancake ran at me, and jumped up on me with his front hooves. But he just sort of wiggle-danced and nudged my face with his fuzzy, bloody nose and jumped down to eat my, now forgotten, bowl of fruit. I ran the hose over my hands and washed my cheek and then I washed Pancake’s back and legs, letting him finish eating before washing his little deer face. There was something rewarding about watching a clean, blood free Pancake lay down in the grass. But I still had a Tupperware half full of fruit with zombie blood nuzzled onto it. I threw it into the next yard over. I spread out next to pancake and scratched his head for a bit before going back into the house. The whole incident left me kind of pensive, so I stretched out on the couch to zone out for a few minutes when Rok walked by and gave me a funny look. “What’s up?” I asked. “You have little red hoof-prints on your tits.”