A quick post from the Small Island of Freakishly Large Wildlife
The last five minutes in my apartment were chaos. I opened the door to the porch, and in the thirty seconds she was out, Elsa managed to catch one of those five-inch mutant Okinawan grasshoppers. She's a natural hunter; I appreciate that she's good at it. But she brings it in the house, lets it loose, hunts it AGAIN as I chase them both like something in a Benny Hill sketch, and tries to take it to her spot on the couch. I chase her off, she tries to find a new gnoshing spot. I tell her 'no,' rinse and repeat.
Finally, I manage to convince her to take it out on the porch, and this thing looks so beat up that I figure the most humane thing to do is to put it out of its misery. So I shoo the dog back inside, grab a giant textbook, apologize to the thing, slam the book down...
...and NOTHING. Totally unfazed, it hops around and tries to get back into the apartment. And I'm standing there with this heavy, totally impotent book and mentally screaming "WHY WON'T THIS END" as I try to chase Rasputin off our porch.
Finally, he manages to get between the gaps in the railing and escape, and I praise Elsa for the glorious hunt she just had and give her dog-safe pudding as a reward. Two bites in, and she decides she wants the bug instead.
Honey, I love you, but I am not scrubbing bug guts off of the couch and brushing your teeth again.
(If you were unaware, Okinawa is covered in a myriad of beautiful, fascinating, and FUCKING ENORMOUS insects. Needless to say, my dog is grinding her 'kill things' skill tree.)
Finally, I manage to convince her to take it out on the porch, and this thing looks so beat up that I figure the most humane thing to do is to put it out of its misery. So I shoo the dog back inside, grab a giant textbook, apologize to the thing, slam the book down...
...and NOTHING. Totally unfazed, it hops around and tries to get back into the apartment. And I'm standing there with this heavy, totally impotent book and mentally screaming "WHY WON'T THIS END" as I try to chase Rasputin off our porch.
Finally, he manages to get between the gaps in the railing and escape, and I praise Elsa for the glorious hunt she just had and give her dog-safe pudding as a reward. Two bites in, and she decides she wants the bug instead.
Honey, I love you, but I am not scrubbing bug guts off of the couch and brushing your teeth again.
(If you were unaware, Okinawa is covered in a myriad of beautiful, fascinating, and FUCKING ENORMOUS insects. Needless to say, my dog is grinding her 'kill things' skill tree.)