In which your author is sick inna hedge

As I stepped out of the front door, I noticed another of those big yellow plastic bags that somebody has been dumping along our street.

It is neither big nor clever, but the buggers have been dumped in gutters and in hedges for some time now.

And now, there is one right outside my front door. Time to do something. Time to take action.

For the first time, I see what's written on the side:

"Animal Funeral Services - Pets for Mass Cremation"

Uh-oh.

The bag appears to have something in it, too.

Double uh-oh.

I utter up a not-so-silent prayer to anybody that may be listening that the contents are not as advertised.

Please don't be a kitten please don't be a kitten please don't be a...

It wasn't a kitten.

It was a soiled nappy.

A heavily soiled nappy.

Adult sized.

Triple uh-oh.

Then I was sick inna hedge