Jiggs and I went on a country hills adventure last night. The only thing missing was the country -- and the hills. But we made due with what we had.
Around 9, we took off for our evening walk. I tossed my jacket back in the house because it was at least 50 degrees outside. A perfect night walk.
We were only a block from the house when we had our first run in with nature. Fortunately, I saw it before Jiggs did. A young raccoon was foraging through the leaves -- most likely for tasty bugs and worms. He did not look old enough to know how to capture a squirrel dinner. And he knew little of raccoon tactics. All he saw was a human and a giant dog barreling down on him.
He chose wisely by climbing the nearest tree. But he seemed to be torn between flight and attack.
Jiggs never saw him. But he caught the scent of coon in the air. He bit the air in short little bites. If I had not restrained him, I am certain he would have started to run circles to see where the raccoon had gone.
Jiggs's adrenalin was running high enough that he literally pranced through the park. And, as luck would have it, we encountered first an opossum and then a nutria. (I ask you, when did you last have an evening that sounded like a cross between a "went-into-a-bar" joke and a Mexican fable?)
As far as Jiggs was concerned, it was a night of heavenly game. He did not get to pursue any of them (he hardly could with him gamy legs), but he felt as if he had.
Mexico may offer him just as many opportunities for an adventure-filled dog life. He is asleep now, dreaming of a night only Marlin Perkins could have enjoyed.
Around 9, we took off for our evening walk. I tossed my jacket back in the house because it was at least 50 degrees outside. A perfect night walk.
We were only a block from the house when we had our first run in with nature. Fortunately, I saw it before Jiggs did. A young raccoon was foraging through the leaves -- most likely for tasty bugs and worms. He did not look old enough to know how to capture a squirrel dinner. And he knew little of raccoon tactics. All he saw was a human and a giant dog barreling down on him.
He chose wisely by climbing the nearest tree. But he seemed to be torn between flight and attack.
Jiggs never saw him. But he caught the scent of coon in the air. He bit the air in short little bites. If I had not restrained him, I am certain he would have started to run circles to see where the raccoon had gone.
Jiggs's adrenalin was running high enough that he literally pranced through the park. And, as luck would have it, we encountered first an opossum and then a nutria. (I ask you, when did you last have an evening that sounded like a cross between a "went-into-a-bar" joke and a Mexican fable?)
As far as Jiggs was concerned, it was a night of heavenly game. He did not get to pursue any of them (he hardly could with him gamy legs), but he felt as if he had.
Mexico may offer him just as many opportunities for an adventure-filled dog life. He is asleep now, dreaming of a night only Marlin Perkins could have enjoyed.
