I thought Sophie's worst problem was that she was an alcoholic (see earlier post).
Little did I know that was just the tip of the iceberg.
Yesterday was a beautiful spring day. The sun was shining. The air warm. Flower buds beginning to break through the earth.
I had to go to the office for a will signing, so I left Sophie in the backyard to frolick in the nice weather.
I returned home and opened the door to let her in. She came bounding up the stairs wagging her tail and carrying one of her stuffed animals in her mouth.
But wait. The stuffed animal keeps moving.
"Holy mother of God, that's a half-dead squirrel in her mouth and she's trying to take her kill into my house!"
"Drop him, bitch!"
The injured squirrel staggers away and hides under the deck. But what do I do now? I don't want Sophie in the house now because she has squirrel-breath. But I don't want to let her outside because she'll finish off the cute little squirrel. I read the book, "All Creatures Great and Small" so I value ALL animals!
Course, the squirrel IS almost dead. And I REALLY don't have time right now to wash Sophie's mouth out with soap.
Ummm. Sorry, squirrel.
Eventually, I had to let Sophie back in the house. I opened the back door to call her in. And then I saw it.
Sure, it wasn't a horse's head like in the movie "The Godfather," but I got the message.
My pantry is fully-stocked now with real meat bones from the butcher. Every time she looks at me with that "Make My Day" look, out come the bones.
God forbid the day I run out of bones!