Vole Patrol!

Warning to Readers:  This post contains content that may not be suitable for the squeamish.  At the very least, put down that sandwich!

While I was away last week visiting Coconut and Daughter , Sophie was left in the capable hands of Hubby, aka Mr. Procrastinator.  However, I was concerned about Sophie--Mr. P and I have different views on child-dog-rearing.  While I keep a close eye on her or walk her on a leash, Mr. P prefers to "let her run."  "She needs the exercise," he scolds me, "and she'll come back when she's ready."  That may be true, but like a child who knows which parent is the pushover, Sophie comes when Mr. P calls, but likes to tease me and often pretends to be deaf when I call her.

Nevertheless, I came home to find her safe and sound and so happy to see me.  She's even been better behaved since I came home.  She loves to join me in the garden, sometimes just content to supervise, but other times "helping" me dig a hole for a plant, raking up mulch, or mixing up the compost pile all by herself:)  But if the chores become too tedious, she starts to wander off.  Yesterday, I realized she was no longer beside me.  I scanned the fields for her wagging tail and eventually saw her in the back yard of a house in the neighboring subdivision.  Uh-oh.  I grabbed her leash and set out across the muddy field, crunching through the cornstubble.

By now she had had her fun and was on her way back home, but I could see she had found something along the way.  Oh no, had she finally caught a bird?  As she came up to me, I was thankful it wasn't a bird, but rather a vole.  Or at least I think it was a vole--it might have been a field mouse instead, but by this time it was a slobbery, disgusting, and unrecognizable mess.  "Good girl!" I said.  "You can catch all the voles and mice you want."  Sophie was so pleased she wasn't getting scolded that she lay down to enjoy her prize. (Notice those dirty paws!)

"Yuck! Sophie don't eat it . . ."

"I like the way the little bonesies go crunch."

"Do you think there are any more of them over there?"

"It's okay, Mom; I promise not to give you a kiss until you've brushed my teeth."

Well, I guess it beats setting out chewed up bubblegum or peanut butter on mousetraps!