In the seven years I have known Sally, she has demanded very little. Sure, she paws us awake each morning before 8am if we are still asleep, wanting breakfast. Or perhaps simply to remind us to wake up and smell the coffee. And yes, she sits alertly next to us at 6pm promptly each evening, wagging her tail slightly, her intent gaze one of friendly reminder that it’s time for us to pour a glass of wine, and to pour food into her bowl. Beyond that, she is rarely demanding.
But for the squirrels. Long have they taunted her, the dining room windows a barrier, and her need for a human being to open a door (so that she may attempt to capture them) extreme. One squirrel, any squirrel, would no doubt satisfy her; yet run mightily like the wind though she does, in seven years, nary a squirrel has succumbed to her intense efforts.
In seven years, nary a squirrel has succumbed to her intense efforts.
Until last last Friday. On that day that dawned like any other ordinary day in the life of a dog, the squirrels were just beyond Sally’s grasp, outside the window, making their daily attempts upon the bird feeder, with Sally trapped inside the dining room. She could see them! But would she be able to get outside in time to capture one?
As it turned out, after seven years, Sally’s luck had changed. Out the front door she went, speeding in a blur around the house, to the back, where countless trees and even more squirrels were all part of the natural habitat—not to be seen for a long time. Just another day in the life of a dog chasing its tail—errr, a squirrel.
And then, a good long while later, with a called entreaty to come in, Sally returned from around the back, trotting obediently, the look on her face one of satisfaction. Except that she was softly carrying something in her mouth—as she approached, it was clearly . . . a dead squirrel.
She responded instantly to the command, “Drop it!” and continued padding on into the foyer, panting a bit, ready for a pat on the head for returning promptly, clearly tired but fulfilled.
No victory dances in the end zone for this dog; it was all in a day’s work. ♣
SPOILER ALERT: If you don’t like to look at dead critters, avert your eyes.
What’s your dog’s best trait? What’s her obsession?
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