Sam in her guise as the The Mighty Huntress returned the weekend before last. I was sitting inside and heard some peculiar noises coming from the backyard and found Sam merrily bouncing and biting away. I ran through the list of proper responses and settled on, “turn the sound up on the TV and rock in place”. I’m probably not the person you want in a crisis. After a few moments of willful denial, I decided I should go see what she’d captured just in case she had done something like cornered a raccoon or worse still, was tangling with a rattler – both things would require some kind of club and me pretending to be brave, so I was kind of hoping for anything but one of those. I tromp out to discover Sam is celebrating Easter early by snacking on a baby bunny.
This phrase is apparently a new command that means, “please, bring that baby bunny into the house.” Thankfully, the door was shut, so she held her limp prize and pawed at the door demanding entrance. I mean really, what could be better than eating your dead bunny than eating your dead bunny on your favorite blanky.
Realizing she wasn’t allowed in, she dashed off with the bunny and found a nice spot in the grass. I mean, it was a beautiful day and bunny with fresh greens makes for quite a delectable dish. I acted quickly. I ran into the house and sent Jay an urgent instant message: “Your dog killed a bunny.” . Again, you might not want me at your side in a crisis. Hey, it was either IM Jay or try to perform a Google search on “how to get a baby bunny away from your feral beagle”. The Jay thing made more sense. Of course, when talking to Jay I had to refer to Sam as “your” dog, which loosely translates to “‘our’ dog is doing something I don’t want her to do”. Everyone knows that when Sam does something cute, she’s my dog. When she eats bunnies or scours the yard for “yard biscuits” she’s Jay’s dog. It may be unfair, but that’s how it goes (according to me). Jay’s response was basically, “offer her something in trade”. I ran into the kitchen and grabbed several dog treats. Normally, she gets one small dog biscuit a day – surely, she’d want 5 RIGHT NOW – it seemed like a fair trade for a bunny.
I go outside and throw down one biscuit, which caused Sam to pause briefly. I could see she’d made a lot of headway on devouring the bunny. She clearly knew her bunny time was coming to a quick end and was attempting to polish off the rest quite quickly. Well, it turns out one biscuit buys you about 2 seconds to grab 1/3 of the remaining bunny (the other 2/3 were long gone). I wasn’t quite that fast. I then tossed the other 4 biscuits further away and was barely able to grab the rest of the bunny remains. By barely, I mean Sam and I had a scuffle that thankfully I won. There are some advantages to being bigger than a 29 lb. dog.
While I can be quite squeamish about many things, I’m lucky this isn’t one of them. Bunny bits were quickly double and triple bagged leaving Sam quite perplexed as she desperately searched and re-searched the area where her bunny 1/3 had been. She looked up at me as if to ask, “have you seen some back legs and a tail?” I shrugged and acted just as confused.
After so many hard years, I figure Sam deserves an Easter bunny or two (well, I’m really ok if it’s just the one). Plus, its is the season. Let’s just hope this mighty huntress doesn’t bring home any Leprechauns next. I can’t imagine there’d be much good luck in that.