It's a Dog's Life

My Black Lab, Hunter, came up with the idea of the animals taking over my blog for a while. Since he thought of it, he gets to be first.

Hi everyone. I’m a goofy black lab called Hunter. Have no clue why my mom chose that name. The only thing I hunt is dead animals. I’m good at it, too. It’s impossible to express the ecstasy of rolling in rotten meat. What’s even better is eating what’s left on the carcass and then chewing the bones. Of course, I get sick. Think anyone offers me sympathy? Think again. None. Nada. So I suffer in silence while I listen to “bad dog” said so many times I lose count.

You’d think I’d learn, but I don’t.

Hanging my head in shame, I admit I am not an alpha dog. There’d be no place for me in the books my mom writes. She likes the macho hero types. It’s always been my philosophy if the other dog wants what I have, then what the hell? I can live without it. Er…I don’t just cave to the other dog…I kowtow to the cats, as well. Especially the BIG one. He’s about as mean as they come. A dog would have to be crazy to mess with a twenty pound cranky Siamese. I’ve experienced his temper first hand. Still have the scars. Even the other dog walks a wide birth around the meanie. There’s a pecking order in our house. Bet you can guess who’s at the end of the line. Yep! That'd be me.

My mom and dad say I’m a wimp. I’m not…well, maybe just a little bit. I mean it’s a scary world out there. I live in the woods, you know. Who’d want to tangle with coyotes or bears? Not me.

Another confession. I never uttered a bark until the other dog came to live with us and taught me how to do it. Who’d have thought I could make such a loud noise. Scared myself the first time I did it. Now I’m as good of a watch do as the other dog.

I had a wild experience the other day. My mom and I went for a walk to the bog. Half way down the hill I saw IT. A vision to behold. I didn’t know what IT was, but IT beckoned me. I took off at high speed and pretended not to hear my mom yelling at me to come back. I skidded to a stop at the thing. I recognized the smell. Turtles lay eggs in our yard all the time, but let me tell you this one was HUGE. It made my head look like a tennis ball. I crept up, cautious now, and jumped four feet back when it lunged and hissed at me. Hmmm…the small turtles’ heads disappear, and I can carry them around in my mouth. Not this sucker. After a few laps around it, carefully avoiding all contact, I knew I’d tackled more than I could handle. “Coming Mom. See what a good dog I am?”

Until the next time…may you not only chase rabbits in your dreams, but catch them, which is something I can't do.