killing tales

for years i have been telling these dogs
that they will never ever ever in a million years
actually catch a squirrel, bunny, raccoon, moose, etc.
i say this not to diminish their amazing hunting skills—
they are fierce, believe me--
but, here’s where i have to whisper--

i say it as a testament to the agility of the hunted.
anyway, and more truthfully,
i tell them these things to prevent it from happening.
yeah, when things are clearly out of my control i get all superstitious on myself.
good old fashioned white girl voodoo, crazy lady hexing.

hunt away, boys! ‘cause it ain’t gonna happen.

and it works, for the most part.

but there have been 2 incidents.

The Bluebird of Unhappiness Incident
In Which The Puppy Jesus Himself Was There
Helping The Fish Jump Into The Boat

holden was about 2 years old, we were in the backyard, no hunting going on.
just sitting and sniffing and tongue hanging.
you know, just kickin' it, dog style.
and out of the big blue,
this kamikaze blue jay
swooped down into the yard at 5000 miles an hour and
i swear, hand to the dog gods,
flew into his mouth.
in the next instant,
holden dropped it, pushing it out with his tongue going bleh bleh bleh.
he said, what the fuck just happened here? did you see that?
indeed i did.

the force of hitting his teeth killed it instantly.
holden freaked out, i freaked out.
it was weird and terrible and traumatic and there was a proper funeral.

to this day, he shows no interest in yard birds.


The Opossum Playing Opossum Incident
In Which The Puppy Jesus Not-So-Gently Reminds You
To Be Careful What You Ask For

louis is even more non-deadly than holden.
he’s a big pile of fluff and curls and velcro weighing in at about 80 lbs
and when he stands on his hind legs he’s about 5’8”.
it’s early evening, in the backyard,
i’m swinging on the swing, talking to bird on the phone.
there’s this opossum scaling the fence
and louis gets a good running start,
hurls himself full force at the fence, slam dunks it,
the opossum loses its footing
and drops right at lou’s feet, playing dead.
lou is so blown away, standing over it, cute floppy ears flopped forward.
he looks at me and says, huh?
and in the next instant
he throws up all over the poor thing.

with perfect aim, i should add.

and then he stood there and looked pretty.
which is what he always does.
fortunately no need for another funeral, just an apology.


fezzik is a whole other story