Headed out for the daily mail retrieval, kerpupples in tow. I haven't mentioned it yet, but the latest round of injections have me feeling like pure, unadulterated crap. And I'm getting a cold too. So I wasn't entirely with it when we ventured out.
Sasha spent yesterday sleeping and lounging, recovering from several days at the kennel. Today she's gotten her spirit back. All it took was a tired Slave to flub the leash when trying to switch it between hands, and she was off like the hellion she usually is.
I called her sweetly to no avail, and ended up chasing her all around the lake. The other 2 dogs joined me in pursuit.
Ripley managed to catch up with Sasha, and they had a fine time chasing the geese into the middle of the lake. But they made it back to shore and Sasha sashayed off before I could catch up.
My saving grace? They encountered the carcass of a racoon on the path. It's head was creepily, perfectly preserved. Sasha tried to grab it and run off with it but it proved too awkward. I waited near the treasure, and sure enough, she couldn't stay away. I snatched up her leash when she returned and started towards home, cursing and scolding her profusely.
She managed to snatch up what looked like a femur or a lesser leg bone as we left. I had to pry it out of her mouth before she could start crunching on it.
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4 comments:
That is reason #1 why I don't let dogs lick my face. You never know what dead animal they just had in their mouth!
Chel - that is a most excellent point. It's amazing how readily available dead animals are.
Also, their breaths usually smell like their own ass or crotch, at best. Damn Dogs is the opera I'm writing.
Cat - I can't wait for this opera!
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