Sunday, February 6, 2011
Rest in Peace, Fatty Fatacre
Perhaps it was lethargy caused by the bitter cold. Perhaps it was extra pounds acquired during a hibernatory orgy. Perhaps it was a slip on an icy branch. Whatever it was, when Hank dashed out of the back door this afternoon in hot pursuit of Fatty Fatacre, our resident squirrel, Fatty was not fast enough and Hank was victorious. Adding to the horrificness of this senseless slaughter was Red Rocket's contribution to the carnage: I found him dismembering Fatty Fatacre by the back door. I am distraught that my sweet dogs have turned into squirrel murderers but I suppose this is what one gets for adopting breeds from the hunting class. I will spare readers of the Red Rocket Report the photo of Fatty's entombment in a Dillon's grocery sack. There will be no dog kisses tonight and the water bowls will be spiked with Listerine.