I was outside playing with the kids the other day. I was pushing my youngest on the swing when all of a sudden my daughter screamed and fled onto the trampoline (I’m not sure why this was a refuge but…to each their own).
“What’s wrong Z??” I asked.
“Ricochet is eating a rat!!!!!!!” *deciphered between screeches*
Eeew. No. Ewww. This was NOT okay. Number one… I don’t want to think about there being wild rats traipsing about my yard. Number two… I don’t want my dog eating one!!! Number three…I’m not touching it!
I ran over to where Ric was playing with, what I had previously thought was a ball. “DROP IT!”. For once, he obeyed and he dropped the rat out of his mouth only, it wasn’t a rat… it was a sweet baby bunny. Amazingly, the bunny looked to be unharmed and hopped on over by my deck.
“Let’s go inside to give the bunny some space and, if it is still there in 20 minutes, we’ll take it over to the wildlife rescue center in case it is injured.”
I stepped out to check on the little guy 10 minutes later and he had died. Poor bunny.
Later that night, Ricochet needed to go outside. Mezzy, smart guy that he is, decided that he would walk Ric on his leash in our yard so he wouldn’t have room to bother any little critters.
Sure enough, about two minutes into their little stroll, a rabbit popped out of nowhere and ran past. Ricochet did his demented kangaroo hops trying to get to it but, luckily, he was on his leash. Lucky Bunny! Then Ric stepped forward and bit something that let out an awful squeal. A baby bunny. There had been two. Ugh. Another one bites the dust.
Okay…so…Ric is a bunny killer. This literally makes him the villain in every. single. Disney movie. He brings harm upon precious fuzzy floofs for his own amusement and joy. I am living with the canine version of Farmer McGregor.
I seem to have a gift for falling for dogs with high drive and poor impulse control. I am looking into strategies to help Ricochet control his excitement over these adorable hopping appetizers. For now, the best solution we have is to put a basket muzzle on him when he is outside so that he can’t get ahold of anything. Rest in peace sweet bouncing floofs.
The Heralding Hound 