Dog Drama

I had just emailed my Mom this evening and told her I was behind on my blogging when God saw an opportunity and ran with it...

I walked by my french doors that open to the backyard and saw my lab, Charlie, lying on the grass casually holding something between his paws. Then I saw him lean down and nibble a bit. It looked dark in color so I immediately begin muttering under my breath something about the kids not keeping their toys picked up. I sighed heavily and yanked the door open.

"Charlie! Leave it!" I scolded. He glanced up casually as if to say, "You called?"

"Leave it!" I hollered again, and then pointed toward the side yard. "Go!" Clearly he was not willing to budge (stubborn mutt, gets the trait from my Hubby). I huffed out toward the lawn and said, "Come." Again he stared at me and cocked his head sideways a bit. I swear he curled his claws into the grass roots even deeper as if to say, "Go ahead, make me."

As I walked a little closer I couldn't quite make out the dark object. I squinted my eyes a bit and leaned forward. It seemed to be shredded some, as if he'd been working on it awhile. It looked like a type of hand glove or towel. I bent down a little closer... nope, dead bird. It was a dead, torn-to-pieces, de-fluffed, partially de-feathered bird carcass. EWWW!!!

I shrieked, jump backward, and then threw up a little in my throat. I shaked the willy-nilly's out of me and tried to swallow some saliva to ease the vomit sensation. Charlie took my commotion as an invitation to play and began dancing around trying to lick me. "Get away! Shoo! Ew! Gross!" spewed out of my mouth at warp speed in his direction.

I locked him behind the side fence and tiptoed back toward the dead bird. I quietly looked at it again, gagged, and headed back inside toward the phone. I dialed Hubby at work and explained my drama. Much to my surprise he started to chuckle. "Well look at that! He's doing what he was made to do. These are bird dogs, you know!" The man couldn't have sounded more impressed.

"Oh, really! How exciting! Good for him! Now come home and clean this mess up!" I snapped into the phone! He casually instructed me to "just get a bag and scoop it up and throw it away."

"But I can't!" I wailed. "It's a bird! A nasty, gross, disgusting carcass... with the head still attached!" To this comment he pointed out the obvious, that I change poopy diapers every day. "Yes, I said. But that's poop; I know what I'm expecting! I don't open the diaper and occasionally find a dead animal laying in there!"

Needless to say, I removed the "debris" from my yard but not before almost dropping it on my foot, twice, and then using said foot to soon after step in dog poop on the way to the garbage. I swear the next time I look out and see that dog chewing something, I'm just going to let him have at it. And if his poop is in the shape of a squirrel or woodpecker or owl, then Hubby can discard of that himself!

And thanks, God, for your lovely "suggestion" of a blog!