Our five year old Shiba Inu, Rupert, has appointed himself the sheriff of our property and zealously protects our home from any perceived threat. He has repeatedly warned the neighborhood squirrels that he is on the job and that they risk life and limb should they decide to invade our privacy; however, the squirrels in our area are brazen little hussies and quite unable to resist the siren’s song of temptation sung by the blueberry bushes in our backyard.
The husband and I were puttering around outside yesterday when I heard Rupert kicking up a ruckus.
“Now what,” I said, turning towards the noise. Sheriff Rupert was standing at the edge of the pool, fixated on something in the water.
“Huh, I didn’t know squirrels could swim,” said the hubster, scratching his head.
I lowered my gaze to see a furry little creature crazily paddling across the pool. I was admiring the squirrel’s remarkable swimming abilities until I saw the wheels spinning in Rupert’s clever doggie brain. He was trying to work out exactly where the squirrel would exit the pool.
I sprang into action. “Catch that dog right now or you’ll be eating squirrel for supper,” I shouted.
“I can’t catch that dog. No one can catch that dog.”
Okay, so the hubster had a fair point. Rupert has lightning fast reflexes and can outrun and outdodge any human alive, but I still didn’t think we should allow the poor little rodent to be dispatched to squirrel heaven because of her momentary lack of good judgment.
“Then run interference,” I cried as the squirrel wiggled out of the water and onto the pool deck.
We proceeded to race about the backyard like lunatics with the squirrel in the lead. Finally my husband caught Rupert’s backside for half a second, giving the squirrel just enough time to scramble to the top of our lilac bush.
Which brings me to our writer’s word of the week—MORDACIOUS. It means sarcastic, caustic, or biting.
You’d think the squirrel would have been more appreciative of our help as she drip-dried on the tree, but she felt the need to verbally chastise us for ten minutes with a few mordacious looks thrown in for good measure. That’s gratitude for you.