Hunter or Hunted?

Last night the reality of the dogs' innate natural tendencies as, well, dogs, hit home like never before. I let them out for their last chance at going to the bathroom before bed. Lucy came back in when I called, but Molly didn't. I called and called, listened to hear the sound of the tags on her collar jingling, like they do when she's walking or running, and heard nothing. Getting concerned, I peered into the backyard and thought I could barely see Molly, laying in the grass next to the second biggest tree in the yard. Now, since she loves to jump and try to climb the trees, I was afraid she had jumped, fallen funny and hurt herself. So I grabbed the flashlight, put my tennis shoes on, and ran into the yard where she was. I kept calling her name, expecting her to move, or whimper, or at least acknowledge that I was coming to help her. I was definitely NOT expecting her to start growling as I reached down to pet her. I stopped, called her name, and watched as she buried her head into the grass, crunching on something. At this point, I figured it was one of their chew toys or something. No such luck. As soon as I convinced her to drop whatever was in her mouth, Lucy grabbed it up and ran to another part of the yard. I scanned the patch of grass where Molly had been laying, which was sopping wet from dog slobber and one tiny tuft of gray fur. Uh oh. After some serious coercion, Lucy finally dropped the prize, which turned out to be a rabbit HEAD! Ears, eyes and all, the dogs had made quick work of this poor rabbit. You can imagine how loundly I screamed when I realized what they had been eating! So gross.

Joe had been in the shower while all of this was going on, and I made him go get the head out of the backyard and throw it away, since I had to deal with the whole mess. Luckily for us, the dogs haven't gotten sick today, which I was partially expecting.

Oh, how I love these days when I am forced to remember that as much as they're family, the dogs are still animals, plain and simple!