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!!!!