The dog caught a squirrel. I was returning with her from a microscopic walkies when she spied a squirrel in the driveway. It ran away remarkably slowly; I can't run, but dragging me, she was able to catch up to it without my falling over, and as it turned aside into the bushes, she lunged and got a good bite in, because she turned back around with it in her mouth. She dropped it and it crawled away and wormed into a crevice, on its side, looking terrified. Presumably squeaking, but I couldn't hear anything. Then it managed to get under the bush, as I held the dog back from pursuing. I feel sorry for the poor squirrel, but I also hope it isn't sick with something she's not inoculated against. And it was a remarkable success for an increasingly sedentary—well, usually prone—dog who's never been very good at using her eyes. When squirrels ran up trees she would always be looking behind the tree trunk. The ones in the park used to know her and mock her.
... And the rest of the large section of grass in the back is mowed. Five trips to the greenwaste bin to dump out the clippings bag, and the bin has gone from empty to half full. Then I watered. Am a bit knackered.
... And the rest of the large section of grass in the back is mowed. Five trips to the greenwaste bin to dump out the clippings bag, and the bin has gone from empty to half full. Then I watered. Am a bit knackered.
From:
no subject
From:
no subject