Woman’s intuition is a powerful thing. I should have listened to it last night.
There I was enjoying a nice sleep-aide-induced slumber when my dog’s frantic barking woke me up. It has been warm, so I have been sleeping with the windows open, and Moondog heard something wandering around in the yard.
warning growls. I eventually began to think there might actually be a person in the yard. So I relented.
What a mistake.
I couldn’t get the door open fast enough for Moondog. She jammed her head into the crack of the door and pried it open the rest of the way with her noggin. She launched out into the yard with Betty the bulldog hot on her heels like a flying meatball.
She went tearing towards our RV with Betty snorting and huffing behind her. I ran out in their furry wake with a flashlight. I shined the light toward the RV and saw Moondog lunging and snapping at something under the camper.
I was slowly climbing barefoot up the rocky, mulch-covered slope, wearing nothing but a huge T shirt, shining a dim cone of light toward my frenzied canine. It was 1:30 in the morning. I had a head full of trazadone and I was having a hard time seeing what Moodoggie had cornered.
In the dim beam of light, my eyes finally focused on Moondoggie’s prey. Prey? It was THE animal that strikes fear in the hearts of us mountain folk. Was it a Cougar, you ask? A coyote? A rattlesnake? No, it was something much worse…
It was a stupid skunk, facing off with my even stupider dog.
As soon as I saw that black and white Pepe le Pew, I turned tail and ran back towards the house screaming for Moondoggie, hoping she would do what good dogs do and follow me. BUT NO, she decided to attack the skunk. For that transgression, she received a full spray right in her mouth, a skunk mouthwash, if you will.
After the altercation, Moondog came running to me alright. Lucky me. I tried to run away from her and lock her out of the house, but Moondoggie is the fastest dog I know. I am always bragging about her speed and agility. This time, I was wishing The Flying Meatball was my dog instead.
I was up another hour washing Moondog. Before I could get to her, however, she rubbed her face on at least four of the Persian carpets. After her bath, I dried her off. She immediately ran around rubbing her face on the Persian carpets all over again. During this entire disaster, Betty just looked at me with a look in her bulldog eyes that said, “I thought Border Collies were supposed to be the smartest breed?”