Sometimes it’s better not to wait
A lesson I should know by now.
This afternoon, I saw Koa nosing about by the pool. She never noses about by the pool. So I investigated, and sure enough, a dead mouse was floating in the pool.
I suppose I should have spared more than a passing moment to feel for the poor drowned rodent, but my first and immediate thought was, how the heck do I get rid of that? Because as I learned the hard way, there is nowhere in the yard that is safe from Brody’s investigational prowess.
The dirt in the yard is hard clay. You can’t dig more than an inch or two without some heavy muscle, and even that is not really helpful when you have a determined dog on your hands.
So I mulled about over it for a bit, before coming to the conclusion that I was going to have to find a burial site in the front yard instead, where the dogs never go.
Better yet, I decided, to wait until my husband came home, and let him deal with it. Then I went inside.
An hour later, I let Brody out, not thinking, clearly. When he reappeared by the back door, I took in his wet feet and thought, uh oh. I mean, it’s cold out right now. Surely, surely he wouldn’t go swimming in that arctic pool, would he?
But he would. If dead rodents were involved.
I looked in the pool. I suppose he imagined he was being helpful. The offending rodent was nowhere to be found.
And he was licking his lips. Looking quite proud of himself, I might add.
Ah, Brody. Keep that tongue away from me. More disinfectant for you, my friend. And some dewormer. BLEAH. Dogs are so gross.
