Rocki Returns to his Wild Roots

The boys went tearing outside this evening for the ritual barking when the neighborhood collies passed by the yard. So I didn't think it was too unusual when Rocki went from the patio to the grass. We always joke that Rocki must be part Husky because no matter what the temperature, he wants to frolic around outside.

Today was a bit different. He was sitting quietly in the grass chewing. His older brother, Bruiser, wouldn't go near him but seemed quite agitated. Again, not anything too unusual since Bruiser doesn't like Rocki to be too far away, yet he won't join Rocki on the grass because it was a bit damp and Bruiser, being a bit of a primma donna, doesn't like to get his feet wet.

After a few minutes, I see the back of Rocki and he is still sitting quietly chewing. I figure he has dragged out the bone from yesterday evening. And then I see the bone in question...it's in the kitchen. So I go out on the patio and call to him. He sits up, turns around wagging his fluffy tail, and I see what he's been chewing on...it's a fat, white dead bird! Then I look...there are feathers scattered here and there along with the tail. I thought I was going to puke.

I called to him from the patio. He stared at me with this poor bird in his mouth and refused to move. I croon, I cajole, I yell...I'm waving my hands calling "no"...the neighbors must have thought I was nuts. Although I had no shoes on, I started walking onto the cold, wet grass to get him. Rocki runs a bit further with his prize, turns to look at me, and then takes off again. I run back into the house, get my shoes, and go after him.

He's back in the grass chewing away at his bird. I'm trying so hard not to hurl at this point. Rocki's having a grand time...he's dining on fresh meat and being chased...two of his favorite things. Life is sure grand in this joint! I finally grab him and he will not let go of the damned bird. I start yelling at him and his grip tighens. I go to reach for it, but I can't touch it!! I feel ill again. Bruiser has now decided that wet grass isn't so bad after all and is dancing around us yapping at me and his brother. Bruiser nips at Rocki's ear and Rocki drops the bird. I quickly grab a cardboard box I was using for weeds, dump them out and cover the mangled carcass. Rocki then realizes that his prized possession his gone and starts anxiously sniffing around the box, trying to figure out how to get around it. Then he lunges for the tail feathers and tries to wolf those down. Choking back what's coming up, I grab it from him and thow it over the fence, scoop him up and take him into the house. Bruiser follows, angrily yapping at his brother. Rocki makes a beeline to the back door and waits. And then he barks to go out. I tell him "no". He starts jumping and scraping at the door...he wants his bird and he's going to get it!

In the end I managed to elude the two dogs, sneak out the door, pick up the bird with a wad of 50 paper towels, and run it to the garbage. Then I let Rocki back out. He has been outside for the last half-hour sniffing every blade of grass throughout the yard looking for his meal. It's in the garbage...I'm having a drink.