The tree was dead. It was hit by a lightening last August during a severe thunderstorm, a particularly scary one for me and my furry ones, obviously. Within a couple of weeks, the leaves all turned crisp brown. Being slow, I thought to myself, ‘ahh the leaves are turning color…’ Well, a few days later, I noticed that it was the only tree with crisp brown leaves in my block. Holy crap, it’s still August!

The biggest tree I had. It was Brandy and Foster’s favorite tree to play around and stalk each other through the space in between the two trunks, so naturally my favorite as well. I talked to my neighbors. The tree was dead. I posted on a message board. The tree was dead. I talked to my friends and co-workers. The tree was dead. I talked to my boss at work with whom I consult regularly with any problem except the female problems. The tree was dead and had to be removed.

I still didn’t want to believe it. Maybe it’s still alive and in some kind of shock? Look, the leaves are coming out from the root right on the ground. See the tree is trying to get better! Maybe it would heel itself and come alive next spring? So I left it alone. Everyday I looked up to find some improvement. Foster kept blessing it by lifting his hind leg. I had hope.

But it was not to be. One harmless windy Saturday morning caught me staring with my mouth open at an unbelievably huge section of a tree branch situated horizontally on the ground.

So the next 2 hours were spent breaking the branches off, twisting the resistant fiber, using a supposedly-cut-anything knife bought for $29.95 on informercial, using scissors, tried everything but a saw of course, screaming at the dogs to stay away. I finally shrunk the thing down to a manageable size and dragged it out of my backyard and looked up at the tree to see where it had fallen off from. And what did I find? Another broken section tangled in other branches. Well, it was inevitable anyway. It was time to call the professionals.

I called three different tree companies and had their “arborists” take a look at it. And it was still dead according to one, or it was dying according to the other two. But surely there must be SOMETHING that could be done to save the poor guy…? What guy? Oh the tree… No, there’s nothing that could be done to save the tree. Are you saying there is absolutely nothing that can be done to help the poor guy? Poor guy… no… there is absolutely nothing… if there were something, I’d tell you…

It had to come down sooner or later. I opted for the tax season and timed it so that I could pay them with part of my measly tax return. The returns are being processed and the tree is gone. The tree company finished the job the day before yesterday leaving me a stump of 1.5 ft. for me to remember the poor guy by. I didn’t even know what kind of tree it was – I don’t know squat about nature – and they told me it was a twin black oak. It’s called a twin because the trunk splits into two at about 1.5 ft off the ground.

I should name him. People gave me suggestions on the name. I can’t decide. Stump Gump? Donald Stump? Forrest Stump?