By Peppermint Patti
JOTR Columnist
I caught a mouse once, Sophie. Just once.
It was a powerful lesson to me, too.
About pride, you know, hubris, chutzpah, all rolled into one package.
I knew there was something wrong.
This was in the kitchen, behind that piece of furniture with drawers, doors and all kinds of pans and pots and lids.
Perfect place for a spindle-butt.
So he thought.
You know how you can hear their little feet swishing around, even though they’re trying to be quiet.
Making his little nest so his wifey-poo can have more spine-tails.
Such arrogance can not stand.
I cocked my head and lifted my ears and waited, silent as you often see me on the lawn stalking brush-butts.
My two-leggers were in the living room, chatting with another pair of twin-pegs. Making a lot of noise. I tried to shush them with a cautionary whine, but that was a waste, as usual.
So I had to creep closer. Stock still. Sure ’nuff, out comes a spine-tail, plain as day, totally blind to me.
Chutzpah!
I waited. Waited. He drew close enough to see me.
I want them to see me first, Sophie, meet their Maker, or, so to speak, their Maker’s deputy.
Let them meet the Reaper is my motto.
A kind dog I am to man and woman and child, but put a rodent in front of me and ruthless is my name.
Just as he looked up, saw my furry head, I lashed out a forepaw. He was quick, gotta give him credit. Made it almost to the cupboard before I pinned him with a quick right. Then it was left-right-left-right and I had him nailed to the floor.
What a rush, Sophie!
I set off one loud yip to celebrate.
The spine-tail?
Dead as a doughnut, Sophie.
And here is where I went badly wrong.
Hubris.
I couldn’t help myself. I’d made such a ruckus that my two-leggers and the other two-leggers bolted into the kitchen.
I had my chance. I could have scarfed up that slime-tail then and there.
Had my cake and et it too.
But no, no, I had to DISPLAY him.
Wanted my laurels, don’t you know.
Oh yes, my two-leggers were full of praise for me. You’d think I’d put out a house fire.
There lay this little black lump with a spot of red in its mouth. And there sat I, proud as any hunter would be.
Oh sure, they kept telling me what a great dog I am, what a great hunter.
I basked in the praise–until I saw what the male two-legger had in mind.
He grabbed a paper towel, spread it over his hand, picked up the spine-tail and before I could yelp a reproof he marched into the cupboard where they poop and pee. Next thing, I hear water running out of their pee well and he’s back in the kitchen minus paper towel.
And minus my lunch.
So long meal time, flushed down a two-legger’s pee pipe.
Lesson learned, Sophie.
If you have to choose between glory and dinner, remember that a mouse in the mouth tastes better than all the praise in the world.
