The barking was incessant. Yip, yip, yip, yip, yip. What in the world is going on out there? I looked out the window at the little dog (Winston, the White West Highland Terrier) aggressively yapping at a spot in the grass.
I had to go out and see. It was probably a lizard. Or part of one. Wrong. It looked like a mouse. How in the world did he catch a mouse? Wait. That’s not a mouse. It’s a mole. Winston had caught or found a squinty-eyed, pointy-snouted, long-clawed mole somewhere in our backyard. A mole? I’ve never seen a mole in our yard. Where in the world did you find it? I scooped it up and tossed it over the fence. You’re not going to torment him (or her) any more.
I got back into the house to find the big dog (Willow, the Great Dane) barking and scratching at the porch floor. Now what? I called her away only to find a dead lizard on his back, covered in drool. Great. Just what I need. I tossed him (or her) over the fence.
Suddenly, these dogs who spend most of the afternoon snoozing have channeled their inner hunter and pursued the latest predators in our yard. They have successfully protected their home from invaders!
Waite for it... 