As I was getting my first cup of coffee last Friday morning, Sumner took up a sentry stance at one of the windows in the kitchen table area, intently watching a young squirrel who'd come across the power line and jumped up on the small north-end gable of the front porch. That little rascal worked his way down to the ground, skittered around the HVAC units, and ultimately ended up beneath the bird feeder in the back yard. That's where Sumner spotted him next, from his perch on the window seat in the attic pool table area, where he keeps an eye on potential prey until he decides a quarry has been targeted, and he animatedly and anxiously signals that it's time to go down two flights of stairs in order to give chase. Those yard rodents are almost always too fast and nimble for him, but not this time.
In the ongoing tally of successful squirrel kills, this is Number 9 for the sweet pooch of the Roediger House. The prey put up a good enough fight to bloody Sumner's snout, and he was quite the triumphant battle warrior with red streaks on his face and neck by the time his prize was breathing its last. We do not restrict him from his natural instincts, where the squirrels are concerned, because they do have a tendency to overrun the property in the absence of a dog's watchful vigilance. The pride at his skillfulness on these occasions is not an indication that there is callous glee for the wild one's brutal demise. Nature has its ways.
I'd like to add that Sumner had nothing to do with the headless bird we found on the driveway the following day. I've no idea what happened here but it was an odd thing to stumble upon.
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