A squirrel in the house!
Pets add so much joy to your life! Especially when you have a dog door. It is the portal through which all manner of surprises can come enter one's life.
We have a very large Pomeranian, as Pomeranians go, the 10-pound Princess Prissy Pants, who is quite as prissy as her name implies. But don't let that sleek, elegant, black (with coy touches of white on her chin and legs) fool you. She's a hunter.
We don't always leave the dog door open. We also have a cat who brought in a live, tail-less chipmunk (The tail was on the floor by the refridgerator; obviously Kitty was saving it for a snack later.), a dead mole and a dead baby bird one day when Chris was out of town. But that's another story. But because of Kitty, we only leave the dog door open when we have visiting dogs because Kitty is a scaredy-cat and won't come out when Leroy, my parent's killer shitz tzu, is visiting.
So, there I sat at my desk, writing a magazine article, when my precious little Prissy Pants brought me a gift--a headless squirrel--and laid it at my feet. She was quite proud of herself. I was less thrilled. In fact, I was disugusted. Fortunately Chris was home (and our marriage vows state that he is to deal with all dead things, and he owes me big after the Kitty episode, so I ran outside, stood on the table on the deck and screeched until he cleaned up the mess). My first question was, "How do we get rid of the dog door?"
After Prissy Pants had thrown up squirrel parts on the new couch and on the bed, my question became, "How do we get rid of the dog?"
The answer is, "We don't." Both the dog and the dog door, along with the killer Leroy and cousin Abby the Norwich Terrier, are still here. It's a small-dog convention at our house this week. Kitty has packed her bags and would run away from home if she had nerve enough to leave the master bathroom.
So, I guess the dog door will stay, at least until we get the other projects--front steps (we've only had one friend sprain an ankle by jumping off the porch and landing in a hole); master bathroom doors, which would make Kitty happy; flooring in the chicken room; redoing the extra bathroom (the pipes burst several years ago, so it's been unusable since then) and a mess of other things I don't even want to think about.
We have a very large Pomeranian, as Pomeranians go, the 10-pound Princess Prissy Pants, who is quite as prissy as her name implies. But don't let that sleek, elegant, black (with coy touches of white on her chin and legs) fool you. She's a hunter.
We don't always leave the dog door open. We also have a cat who brought in a live, tail-less chipmunk (The tail was on the floor by the refridgerator; obviously Kitty was saving it for a snack later.), a dead mole and a dead baby bird one day when Chris was out of town. But that's another story. But because of Kitty, we only leave the dog door open when we have visiting dogs because Kitty is a scaredy-cat and won't come out when Leroy, my parent's killer shitz tzu, is visiting.
So, there I sat at my desk, writing a magazine article, when my precious little Prissy Pants brought me a gift--a headless squirrel--and laid it at my feet. She was quite proud of herself. I was less thrilled. In fact, I was disugusted. Fortunately Chris was home (and our marriage vows state that he is to deal with all dead things, and he owes me big after the Kitty episode, so I ran outside, stood on the table on the deck and screeched until he cleaned up the mess). My first question was, "How do we get rid of the dog door?"
After Prissy Pants had thrown up squirrel parts on the new couch and on the bed, my question became, "How do we get rid of the dog?"
The answer is, "We don't." Both the dog and the dog door, along with the killer Leroy and cousin Abby the Norwich Terrier, are still here. It's a small-dog convention at our house this week. Kitty has packed her bags and would run away from home if she had nerve enough to leave the master bathroom.
So, I guess the dog door will stay, at least until we get the other projects--front steps (we've only had one friend sprain an ankle by jumping off the porch and landing in a hole); master bathroom doors, which would make Kitty happy; flooring in the chicken room; redoing the extra bathroom (the pipes burst several years ago, so it's been unusable since then) and a mess of other things I don't even want to think about.
Comments
I'm sorry. My Mom's cat does this too. She only eats the heads of birds, moles, mice and then leave the bodies around for us...then hacks up the brainy bits. So gross.