Last night Baxter (aka the Hunter) pounced on something much bigger than the normal mole. Between his repeated jumping and a small yelp, I knew I was going to have to deal with something… I snowshoed across the deep snow and in the dim light of my headlamp, I saw something dark and about a foot long waddle away.
I refocused Baxter and we continued on our walk. As we came back around from the field, there was no sign of the creature, so I thought the coast was clear.
This morning I neglected to do a pre-walk recon, so again, in the dark before the dawn, before I knew it Baxter was proudly walking my way with something large and furry in his mouth. Much to Baxter’s pleasure and my displeasure he had mortally wounded a muskrat. Gross! Back to the yard with the dogs, muskrat and all.
As you can imagine, no amount of bribing, begging, or sternness on my part would convince Baxter to drop the dead muskrat. After 20 minutes, the warmth of Baxter’s mouth was starting to melt the muskrat. I knew I was going to have to get in closer. Gloves on, I pried his jaws apart and the muskrat fell to the ground.
I thought of taking a picture for you all, but really I didn’t want to see any more …. I get dogs will be dogs, but I’ve really got to work harder on that “Drop It” command!