Hot-tee-TOT!

Photo by BobbaLew.

Happy dog.

Another bunnie-rabbit has met its demise in the jaws of our rapacious, blood-thirsty carnivore.
I returned home the other night (Thursday, March 18, 2010) about 10 p.m. From a meeting and was greeted by our prancing dog with a bunnie-rabbit in her mouth.
Hot-tee-TOT! Hot-tee-TOT! I got it, and you do NOT!
This is probably bunnie-rabbit number six.
Our dog wasn't a hunter when we got her, but has since learned the joy of hunting.
She's a rescue-dog, a product of a puppie-mill of sorts, where she had been kept as breeding stock.
She was only three when we got her, but had already had two litters of puppies,
She was a very high-energy dog. I remember a couple from Penfield wondering why we should ever want such a monster.
“We just had one,” I said.
But Scarlett is probably even more high-energy, and bigger and therefore stronger.
By getting a rescue-dog, we avoid puppydom, although such a dog is often messed up.
Scarlett isn't too bad, just poorly socialized, and an extreme puller.
I could bust her of that, but am not so inclined.
The dog is already messed up. I don't want to mess her up even more.
Scarlett is an Irish-Setter. Every dog we've had was an Irish-Setter. Scarlett is Irish-Setter number six.
All our dogs became hunters, although one was more placid and into hunting frogs.
I was walking dog number-one at Cobbs Hill Park back in the late '70s, when all-of-a-sudden BAM; she dispatched a squirrel.
I promptly gave up; it was too late anyway.
Plus this is what dogs are all about; domesticated to help the humans find game.
Teamwork; our fabulous eyes teamed with their fabulous nose and ears.
Our dog has a slew of toys, all furry like critters.
My wife purchased a window-washer with a furry brush, and our dog immediately tried to grab it.
“That's not a toy, Scarlett.”
Our first dog nailed probably at least 30 squirrels, and who knows how many mice and moles, etc.
And that was despite getting hit by a car, which nearly killed her.
We always kept her tied up outside while at work.
She'd sit in the backyard and patrol the overhead utility lines.
“Squirrely on the wire,” I'd shout.
Ears up, on the alert, she'd run back-and-forth under the wire, in case a squirrel fell.
Our neighbor had a pet rabbit. They'd let it ramble loose around their yard.
Our dog would eye it.
“That rabbit strays into our yard, and it's dead meat,” I'd say.
They also had a pet dog.
“Oh, Noel would never hurt that rabbit,” they'd say.
“Noel is not our dog,” I'd respond.
Our other neighbor kept a pile of abandoned lumber and plywood behind his garage.
Feral cats lived in there.
Our dog would go back and serenade that lumber-pile for hours.
Our second dog, by then in West Bloomfield, became weak and crippled as she got old.
Despite that she caught a rabbit.
Her nose still worked fine.
She'd go into an adjacent weed-field and hoover the ground, sniffing for moles and mice.
She nabbed quite a few.
Every week we were tossing some dead critter into our trash.
The trash men probably thought we were into animal sacrifice.
Our fifth dog developed cancer.
Despite that, he nabbed a chipmunk.
Chipmunks are hard to catch, fast and elusive.
“Look what I got, Boss!”
He's buried with a toy goose he used to carry.
Speaking of geese, here we are in a nature preserve, and dog number-three is prancing around with a limp gosling in her mouth.
Our backyard is surrounded with five-foot chain-link fence.
“If a rabbit gets in there, it's dead meat,” I say.
They can't escape.
Scarlett had to run everywhere, but she got it.

• “Our” is I and my wife of 42+ years.
• “Penfield” (“penn-feeld”) is a suburb east of Rochester, NY. We used to live in Rochester, but now live in the small rural town of West Bloomfield in Western NY, southeast of Rochester. (We picked up Scarlett in Buffalo — she's from Ohio Irish-Setter Rescue.)
• “ Cobbs Hill Park” is a large partly wooded park in Rochester.