Tuesday, August 04, 2009

In Which Nature Takes Over

Scene: A sun dappled den. The Comedian and I are sharing some quiet time while our dog, Lex suns herself outside on our deck.

"Cheeep! Cheep, Cheep, ChiiRRRP!" The Comedian and I look out the sliding glass doors of the den to see Lex catch an adult-sized Robin in her mouth. As I press my face to the glass I can actually see the fear in the bird's eyes and I let out a bit of a whimper. "Poor, germ-infested bird. You had no idea that lazy looking dog was going to come out and get you did you? I know. Me neither."

In the past Lex has caught toads, lizards and other smaller birds but when they cease to move any longer she stands above them looking perplexed. She nudges them with her nose wondering where her playmate has gone. It's almost sad if it weren't so well, wild. I forget sometimes that she is an animal and hunting, not snoring and hacking up an old man lung is her true instinct.

I look out the window a minute or so later to see her ripping the head off the bird and more. Egads. I swalllow a bit of vomit. Feathers litter the deck as do drops of bird blood. 'True Blood' plays on the TV screen in the background. Seconds later she runs through the dog door and drops the lower half of the bird at my feet. "Oh? A present for me? How thoughtful. I always wanted diseased bird claws with entrails on my den carpet. How sweet!" I immediately run for a rag to scoop up the mess and then cordon off the bio-hazard area before The Comedian can stuff any blood and guts into her piehole. I gag again and dial H.

I talk to him about how I really would clean up this mess if I could and I notice that the once sunny and clean deck is now littered with bird head and feathers on one side, entrails in the middle and random pieces of heart, lung and bones on the other side. Blech. She really went to town. Lex stands amongst it all panting and salivating while surveying her domain. She looks like she is in some sort of trance.

You think you are going to spend an hour watching vampires suck blood off some mortal while you fold your whites and suddenly you find yourself scrubbing bird blood, guts and feathers off your beige carpet instead. Typical.


  1. I hate that. It's a funny juxtaposition, though: the much more violent, yet false vampire vs. the casual and undramatic, yet real doggy.

    Good luck with that.

  2. At least she's doing her hunting outside. Everything Ellie kills (and we average a critter a day) is in the house. The walls are pretty much wall-papered with geckos here.


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