Saturday, November 7, 2015

Capturing the Excitement of Newt's Hunt

Shhh, Newt is crouched under the elephant fountain, and is about to pounce on something.  Maybe if I'm quiet, I can catch her in action.  Click.  Click.  Click.... come on, already.  Click.  Click...

After taking at least ten photos of her in a patient crouch, she's off!  What is she after? A mouse? a bird? superman?  

I can hear David Attinborough's voice poised in my mind ready to narrate the exciting conclusion of this hunt for...the dog sniffing the compost.  Sigh..  Hunting with Newt isn't as exciting as I thought it would be.   

I spied her licking her chops in the fire pit, but when I went to investigate, I could see that she was licking charcoal.  Psst!  Don't eat that! 

I wouldn't be very sad if she managed to catch the mole that's tearing up our front yard, but she only seemed interested in sniffing the dirt piles.  She stopped to stare at the wall of the house, near the back corner of the bathroom.  My patience isn't as strong as hers, but when I finally got really close to her, I could hear the little scrabbling sounds of something alive in the wall, up about four feet from the ground, and near a small gap in the siding that looks dirty. Like something with dirty little feet or nasty droppings lives in our wall.  At least Newt let me know.  Not that I know what to do about it.  

Look at all that dirt!  I should be impressed that Brandon excavated a trench for the electricity to the hot tub, by hand even, and I am, but since his electrical trench work has created a muddy pathway that crosses two of our main entrances, my admiration is tinged with despair.  Will our floors always be this dirty now that we live in the country?  The other day, at the office, I noticed a muddy trail that led to my office, and I had not been in the field working.  Someone pointed out that I had burrs stuck to my pants, and I wasn't returning from work in the field, I picked them up getting in my car, at home.  I never appreciated my sidewalk at our old house as much as I do now that I don't have one.  

It's not funny when an old dog with stubby legs tries to cross a six-inch wide ditch and gets his back end stuck in the mud.  Nope.  Not funny at all.  I am not laughing, Puck.  I am not laughing so hard I have to wipe away tears, either.  And when I look at this picture, I do not laugh every time, because it's not funny.  


Newt, are you bragging that you captured a shrew, or are you complaining that your new toy stopped working?  I'm glad I missed the action, really.  

You better watch out, Newt, that hen has her eye on your snack.  

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