Last night I was sitting at the computer when I heard THUD outside. Knowing that my silky soft bad boy collie was in the back yard alone, I figured I'd better check on him.
And there he was, standing over a poor pathetic little squirrel that must have made the thud when he was taken down. I told Naughty Child to "Come" and "Leave It". He turned away for just a moment and then turned right back and gave Mr. Squirrel a good shaking meant to teach him a lesson.
I could see the squirrel was still alive, though barely twitching. Bad Boy and I then got into an argument that eventually led me down the steps of the deck to have a serious talk with him.
He finally obeyed and scurried into the house. I hoped the squirrel would somehow rouse himself and crawl out under the gate, but a few minutes later he was one dead squirrel, beady little eyes staring but not seeing, and I used my pooper scooper to get him into a garbage bag so someone wouldn't carry him into the house and deposit him on my lap as a gift.
I made some noises of disgust as I scooped squirrel, but I didn't cry. This type of thing was once upon a time a husbandly job, but I did it, and I didn't scream or cry.
I sent my son a text telling him about it and asking if I should save the squirrel and prepare a hearty stew for him. He said, "Sounds great." Maybe he'll give up being a vegetarian when he's faced with the happy prospect of succulent squirrel.
One of my sisters was awakened one night when her dog put a dead squirrel in bed with her. That's why I don't have a doggie door. My neighbor said her dog brought a deceased squirrel in and put it on a pillow. I guess the dog thought the squirrel deserved a nice rest.
The strange thing about squirrels here is that they aren't very big. They are surprisingly skinny.
I do believe the rats are larger.
Good night and good morning.
D F W