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Pup

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Hopalong:
[Longwinded account of a very minor thing, so don't waste energy. Just benefitted from writing it out, fwiw.]

Well, Pup is a terrorist. While he's looking all handsome and charming, he is plotting murder. He found a baby bunny and dumped it on the step as he scooted back inside, all "who, me?". The next day he re-found it and I got the poor thing away from him. Holding it, I was surprised that it looked perfect, just quiet...then turned it over and found a horrible slash across its belly/torso. Oddly no bleeding, but it looked like what a sharp puppy tooth could do. No visible puncture or stuff hanging out though, so I took it in, looked up stuff and put it in a small box on a soft towel, with a heating pad under part of the box.

Called a rehabber twice, no luck. By two days I'd had enough (all sources said no food or water, leave in quiet with heat source) -- so I'd just be imagining this lovely hurt young creature dying alone dehydrated in my kitchen. I drove (with an excited Pup as distracting passenger --- couple hair-raising swerves on the interstate) to the best wildlife center there is. We went over the mountain and they said they'd be glad to treat it, push antibiotics etc. To fix that wound surgically would take VERY tiny stitches. Big relief. I was afraid it'd die on the way.

A last thing I love about this org is they give you a patient number for the wildlife you bring in, so you can inquire how they're doing in a few days. Lovely idea.

Anyway, this was long and prolly boring, so feel NO need to reply!

hugs
Hops

lighter:
Oh, Hops.....the little bunny got the best care.  I wasn't bored reading all that.  I was on the edge of my seat ...and procrastinating for a minute at the lake house. 

Pup isn't a murderer, btw.  Just following his programming.  I hope his desire to please (you) takes over.

The situation sounded very stressful.

sKePTiKal:
Pups (and kitties) will do that because they're trying to take care of you - bringing you food and teaching you to hunt.

LOLOL. Ain't reciprocity GREAT? more LOLOLOLOL.

Hopalong:
Pup has Aunties!
Thanks, y'all.

I remember cracking up the first time I learned that cats are not trying to feed you critters....they're patiently repeating unwanted wounded victims on the kitchen floor  because they don't understand why these enormous dim-witted kittens won't catch on!

My two "hunter" dogs were generally lousy at it, fortunately, though I was sad to witness two bloody groundhog slaughters, complete with horrible screams, from my last Big Dog....she was a gorgeous mystery creature...stunningly beautiful and, as it turned out, lethal now and then. Before her, the Biggest Dog was fortunately a hunting doofus. Purebred and huge yellow Lab, brought to a tiny rural shelter because he was a lousy hunter. Perfect for me! So gorgeous a fancy pimp on the street in the 70s once stopped us and said, "I'll give you five-hunnert for that dog!" Forget it, buddy.

Last Big Dog was discovered in the belly of a stray some vet students in Atlanta (one the son of a publisher friend of mine) were "learning surgery on" -- they had missed that the stray subject was pregnant, and the son-vet brought the two surviving puppies home on holiday break. They invited us over and my D went berserk for the pup, whom I cared for for the next 13 years after endless passionate promises "Mom, I'll do all the work..." LOL. Big Dog was wild-looking and mysterious -- a really spectacular being. People would stop on the street and ask "What breed is that?" Hah. Don't do breeds -- she was a magnificent mystery mix. Double coat that flowed in the wind, erect ears, sort of wolfish face, reserved personality, coiled energy. Her mam was a white shepherd mix, her tongue was black (like a chow). No telling about genes, it was pre-doggy-DNA.

I've loved every dog I've ever had. Pooch was in a different category altogether...soul bonding, like living with a sister version of Buddha. But every one has walked right into my heart. Pup is chewing, clawing, barking and peeing his way...but he's in. :)

hugs
Hops

lighter:
What a nice post to have morning coffee with, Hops. 

My DD23's spirit animal is her pug.

Strangely, she watches mice cross the kitch n floor and doesn't even stand up.  Once she pulled a baby mole out of the underbrush and was all...."can we keep it?"

No killer instinct, past ripping doggy toys apart, starting with the nose.  Every time.

I'm curious if you're writing, Hops.  I hope so.

Lighter

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