The Case of the Disappearing Grill Cover
It was a still morning on our deck—too still. Not a leaf stirred, not a breeze rustled. Which is why it was a shock to see our black grill cover inching its way toward the steps like a giant, slow-moving slug.
At first, I thought perhaps the wind had invented a new trick. But no. Upon closer inspection, I found the culprit: a groundhog, chin up and teeth inserted, legs straining, yanking the cover down the steps like a victorious Viking dragging home the spoils of war.
This wasn’t just theft. This was engineering.
“Looks like vinyl siding,” he snuffled beneath the plastic folds as he wriggled under the deck.
The mockingbirds, who were perched nearby, heckled him mercilessly.
“Well, well. Look who’s redecorating!”
“Hey Earl, you opening a discount patio furniture store?”
“Maybe next week he’ll drag down the Weber kettle and host a cookout!”
But Earl paid them no mind. He had vision. He had style. And he had our grill cover.
By the end of the day, when the fox family peeked in to see what the ruckus was about, they found Earl reclining on his new black vinyl “rug,” looking smug.
“Keeps the drafts out,” he explained. “And if it rains, I’ll be the only subterranean dweller on this property with waterproof flooring.”
The crows squawked that it was unfair—they had to flap halfway to the next county for shiny trinkets, while Earl just strolled onto the deck and picked up a full-sized appliance cover. The squirrels considered staging a heist but decided it was far too heavy for their tastes (besides, they’d just discovered a stash of walnuts in the garage to argue over).
And so, it was settled: the groundhog had won the day, securing his title as Master Recycler, Deck Raider, and Most Likely to Turn Up on the Next Episode of Animal Hoarders.
The moral? Around here, you don’t lose things. You loan them to wildlife indefinitely. *
* You have just read the fanciful and happy ending of this story…where the groundhog wins the day.
Here’s the real ending…
Of course, the groundhog didn’t get his way. The moment a human appeared on the opposite side of the grill cover, he dissolved into motion—ran away in a ripple—and vanished back under the deck as if he’d never been there at all.
But if he hadn’t been caught in the act? There’s no doubt the missing cover would be a mystery. We would have searched the property to see where the wind had carried it. Eventually we would have given up and never know it had quietly been repurposed as luxury flooring, winter insulation, or perhaps the first groundhog condo with waterproof amenities.
© 2026 Terry Housel. All rights reserved.
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