SPRINGHILL – It’s too bad the Pettigrew’s didn’t have their doe license. It might have made up for the demolished door they now have to replace.
© Christopher Gooding photo
Evelyn might be smiling now, but her husband Art Pettigrew is still wondering how he let a full size deer getaway on him after it came crashing into their home, smashing their storm door and filling the living room with broken glass.
Art and Evelyn Pettigrew were spending a relaxing Tuesday afternoon sitting on the couch in the living watching television when, instead of an abrupt knock at the door, an explosion of glass and hooves came crashing into through their Victoria Street home.
“I’ve never been so scared in my life,” Evelyn said. “It was like a bomb went off.”
“It was a fat doe. It came charging through the door and started up the stairs,” Art said
“I hollered ‘Oh my god,’” Evelyn said. “It turned around and took off.”
It all happened in a matter of seconds, but that fleeting moment made a mess of their entry and living room. The impact of the doe was so forceful it broke the metal frame of their storm door, and the glass was strewn throughout the home.
“It shattered like a waterfall,” Evelyn said. “I never want to experience that again.”
After the doe made its retreat, which saw the deer rip through the latticework on the porch, neighbours reported seeing the deer running through the neighbourhood before it found itself an unwanted guest in the Pettigrew home.
“They think some kids leaving school might have spooked it and it was looking for a getaway,” Art said.
Why it chose the Pettigrew home, who knows? Perhaps it took their place for safe sanctuary. The Pettigrews traditionally have one of the most festive homes on Victoria Street as Christmas approaches. The bushes the deer had to pass through and the porch were lined with oversized candy cane decorations amidst scenes and decorations of the holiday season.
Springhill Police responded to the Pettigrew’s home following the incident but the deer was gone just as fast as it appeared.
Which is perhaps a good thing.
“I couldn’t have shot it,” Art said with a childish grin. “The rifle was in the cellar.”