The View from the Kitchen Window
Jan 22 07
Today I have a different view – not from the
kitchen window. Donna and the children went for a walk in the snow
with the dogs Ben and Dalhousie. All is quite in the house until they
arrive back – don’t figure eh! Anyways Donna comes into the
kitchen excited and panicky rambling about the dogs being bloody and
under attack from a beaver. She is almost in tears saying that
Dalhousie ’s nose is bitten off and Ben is covered in blood. At
first I do not know what to think, then in comes Dalhousie. His
muzzle is covered in blood, and he is soaking wet looking as if he
has just come out of a swimming pool; he sure looks like one sorry
soggy dog. I gently run my hands over his body and examine as closely as I
can his nose. All seems OK so no vet call is needed at this time. Ben
comes in later – I do not worry too much about him he is so huge
and powerful. We had these dog biscuits for large dogs that Ben chops
up as if it is a knife going through hot butter on a July day. How
many pounds per square inch do his choppers put per inch? All that I
know is that when I give Dalhousie a large dog biscuit I have to
break it up for him or it takes forever to chew it – in the mean
while Ben just open and closes his mouth and crumbs fall all over the
floor.
Well all is safe now both dogs are in the house
recuperating from their great kill; I can just imagine the dreams
they will have tonight. I often watch them sleep and their legs would
be twitching and little growls coming from within. Not sure when Kyla
had let the dogs outside, but Dalhousie was scratching at the door to
come back in side. I let him in and he runs around a bit when I
notice that once again his muzzle is ringed by blood. I am sure he
does have a bite on his black little button nose but this is too much
blood I am thinking. Donna calls out where is Ben and she goes out
side to search and comes back right away screaming. Ben has this
thing in his mouth. I give her my camera and request firmly that she
goes out to take a picture so I can see it. She takes a couple
pictures but they are of poor quality so I send her out once more.
She got as far as the door and turns around screaming again at Ben to
stay out. I wheel over and stand at the door to view out the window.
I see Ben but nothing else. So I open the door and at my feet lay’s
a brown thing. I can not tell at this point what it is so I bend over
and turn it over. Well there is no guessing now what it is. Ben has
killed a muskrat.
What can I say? As I type this the muskrat
remains at my door step as Donna will not go near the thing and I can
not do anything with it except to bring it into the house which will
only make Donna freak out more, so it remains in my front porch step.
I have offered to bring it into the house and throw it into the wood
stove like I do to the mice I catch in the traps but one again Donna
is not so keen of this suggestion. What would you do if you were in
my position? I think if we leave it there long enough Ben will drag
it outside and munch on it or something of that nature. After all
isn’t this what dogs do? I would love to see the reaction of my next visitor who comes in my front door if Ben does not drag this off!!!!
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