Deadly Clash Between Friends Over a Half-Eaten Corpse

7 Feb

Another lovely dawn in Santa Barbara.  Just before I put Scruff’s leash on, I watch him roll around on the rug as if it were a pile of something dead and awful that dogs love so much. It’s an evil harbinger but it doesn’t register. It never does  early in the horror movie.

I let Bre’r Kitty inside. He walks right past his food and gets into his little basket.  Hmm, maybe he’s sick? I take him out of the basket and put him next to his food dish. He nibbles, then walks away. Hmm. I shrug and take Scruff for his walk.

On the way back  I drop Scruff’s leash to let him run to the door.  Instead of going to the door, he makes a sharp right. At first I think I’m going to have to chase him but he comes when I call him.  Good boy.

He comes back with a bloody, dripping mass of gore that used to be an adult rabbit.  He has a death-grip on it with his jaws. I grab his collar and shake.  Fail. I could pull the rabbit’s not-so-lucky legs – but my last name isn’t Palin.

The last thing I want to do  is to touch this rabbit (unlike the other animals in our house). I pull at Scruff’s collar like a maniac. He’s going all wild-child on me – eyes filled to the brim with crazy got-to-survive, animal adrenalin. This is far superior to my metrosexual, guy-who-watches-horror-movies-with-hands-over-eyes, “can’t we all just get along” energy.

Scruff tries to get a better grip on his prey, so as to swallow the remains of dead bunny whole. I have somehow timed one of my pulls with one of his lunges.  The half rabbit corpse (seldom seen on a restaurant menu) drops to the earth. I shove Scruff inside the house.

Bare-handed, I heave the poor carcass deep into the underbrush. I scream a primeval yawp to the candy pink sky (or possibly I gingerly use the metal dog scoops with long wooden handles that the former owners left here fifteen years ago).

I feed Scruff his can of metrosexual dog food. No hard feelings. A little later Bre’r Kitty strolls outside. Time to return to the scene of the crime.


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