Tuesday, May 17, 2016

Hiding from dead moles

IF YOU OWN an active dog, walk the darned dog. You don't have a choice. Your life will not be nearly as good if you lay around like a blob and ignore the pleading face of your puppy. All the dog wants to do is run free.

And kill things.

Last Sunday we took Ziva, Cori Lyssy's pit bull and Husky mix, for an off-leash stroll at one of our favorite spots. Angus and Tucker were delighted to have a new friend and they romped around like old pals. Cori was terrified her dog would run off - silly, silly girl singer! Angus and Tucker both have herding instincts. Ziva learned very quickly the boundaries and how far she could wander off.

Cori's three curious kids and her husband, Benny, joined us. Tell me there's anything better than a family stroll and exploring history. The kids were really into it and bounced around almost as much as the dogs. And no PlayStation! Ain't no rotting your brains out on this safari, folks.

Near the end of our walk, Angus did what he does best - he furiously dug into the ground because he smelled a mole. Now, moles are the curse of grass and humanity in general. They are ugly little creatures and they do a lot of damage to lawns and green space. Bella (rest in peace) was very good at digging them up and snapping their necks quickly.

Bella digs out a mole .... Snap!
Angus digs and digs and digs and almost never catches moles, but every now and then he gets lucky. The problem is that he and Tucker prefer to play with their new toy, prolonging the mole's suffering and/or death.

Before all you PETA backers get too fired up, let me just say nature is both wonderful and cruel, and I hate moles, and you can protest all you want. Dogs are gonna be dogs. Lo and behold, Angus caught a mole Sunday, and he taught Ziva the finer art of picking it up and flinging it around.

Cori didn't handle it very well. It was like I told her we had to learn Enya or Dan Folgelberg songs or something - she started shaking and crying and she walked off holding her head in her hands. A tough gal from Texas couldn't handle a little bit of killing? Her precious little Ziva, a mole killer. Geesh, I thought Texans skinned animals alive and wore pelts and bragged about shooting things from great distances, as long as their cowboy hats didn't block their vision.

Ziva, of course, thought it was great. The mole lasted about five minutes until the dogs finally put it out of its and our misery. Nature took its course. And we moved on.

I am hoping we make this a Sunday tradition. I am hoping Cori realizes moles are bad and deserve every dog bite they get. Suck it up, buttercup, and get in touch with your inner Texan.

And walks, no matter how much death the dogs cause, are a beautiful thing.

No comments:

Post a Comment