This morning, when I let the dogs in, I noticed something small and furry on the back porch. It turned out to be a chipmunk, obviously dead, but only just. Since it was right next to the door, I’m sure that it met its maker sometime this morning, and I’m also sure that it was the handiwork of Lucy, the hunter to Henry’s gatherer. Lucy will sit on the back porch – hind legs one step higher than her front legs – and watch the trees for squirrels with serious concentration. When she sees one, she jumps off the steps and hurls herself across the yard. She’s very entertaining to watch. The squirrels seem to think so, too. I’m convinced that they taunt her, waving their bushy tails at her like a red flag.
Henry, on the other hand, is quite content to sit on the porch and watch Lucy run herself ragged chasing squirrels. He’s much slower than she is. If we’re playing fetch, Lucy will run and stop the ball, then Henry will follow up behind, and bring it back, tag-team style. I think part of his laziness is due to his long fur, which means he gets hot faster than Lucy. He spends most of the summer laying on the air conditioning vents, the air poofing out his arm (leg?) pit fuzz.
The mighty hunter: