I need to preface this post by saying I was completely horrified by the events that took place in our backyard. This is why I do not watch Animal Planet, National Geographic, or anything that might potentially involve a hunter and their prey.
Please read this in your head in a gravelly Australian accent.
The early Californian sun shines through the large Pistache trees, scattering speckled shadows across the sea of green savanna sparkling with dawn’s dewdrops. The bamboo waves in the gentle breeze. All seems quiet with the exception of the distant call of the mourning doves which hauntingly echoes through the crisp morning air. Such a serene vista. A startling mechanical sound clatters through the air as the pool filter kicks on. The morning sun dances on the ridges of the rippling water, as it circulates. A lone human being in a really pathetic, forlorn bathrobe, sits under the protection of a covered patio, slowly sipping some dark watery substance and staring off into the distance with a glazed look on her face. She may possibly be related in some way to the Tufted Ear bird Dog based on the way her hair protrudes from her head.
The mourning doves sing, the breeze whispers and the bamboo sways. In the distance (please place your hand in a salute position over your eyes and squint ever so slightly) movement is noted. On closer inspection it is the elusive Tufted Ear Bird Dog (Maxie) accompanied by his tall, lithe companion (Mikey). They are statue still side by side. It seems they have spied their prey. Their heads drop in unison as they crouch into their stalking position. It has suddenly become eerily quiet as the birds in the trees watch silently. The human raises her head, she too suddenly notices the change in her surroundings and stops sipping her beverage to watch, as she squints into the early morning sun.
As if on cue, the Tufted Ear Bird Dog utters his familiar wart hog bark and bolts
When we return, will Mikey ever understand the secrets of the pool sweep?
ADDENDUM: Because of this incident, I now have to look at Maxie (the Tufted Ear Bird Dog) a tad differently. I had no idea he was capable of this type of violence (actually I had no idea he could run that fast either). This is the same dog that hugs my ankles and uses my feet as a pillow, when I am working on the computer. After having thought about this for 2 days now, I have realized although our family dogs are domesticated and are our best friends, they are still inherently animals with instincts that track back to a time when they lived in the wild (and not on the futon with pillows and blankies). We need to respect and remember that.