A beautiful evening was thrust upon us yesterday, so a later than usual, once a week, lawn mowing was in order. Butch took his natural position in the yard waiting for me to “get it together” and get the mower out.
(Click on pics for better look!)
As I meandered into the back yard with Butch in a barking frenzy trying to get at the big ball I was carrying, I threw it across the back porch and imagine my surpirse when he started running after it and then right past it to the other end of the porch around the corner. Knowing that he would not go out of the yard, I continued on my trek to the shed to get the mower as Butch came into my sight frantically circling the air conditioner. “Oh I see, he’s trapped that lousy chipmonk again underneath Well, good luck little buddy,” I thought. “He’s been trying to catch that thing for 2 years.” I fired up the mower, grabbed my iPod and a cold one and began mowing the lawn. As I left the back yard Butch was still circling the air conditioner, stopping occassionally to get down on his front legs with his butt sticking up in the air to get a glimps of his quarry.
About 30 minutes later, after I was finished with the front lawn (and my brew), I slowed down the mower to go get another. After not seeing Butch for that amount of time, I figured he was in the back yard either still chasing the chipmonk, his tenacity knows no bounds, or playing with his ball. When he hears the mower slow down and the blades stop he knows I am getting off the mower. This always prompts him to give me a quick ‘once over’ to see what I am doing and he comes running. This was no exception, and take a look at what came flying around the corner covered from head to toe with a nice layer of slobber mixed with mud.
For those that know Butch or have met him … SEE, I TOLD YOU AND YOU DIDN’T BELIEVE ME. He is a monster!!!!!! I could tell with that wild stare in his eyes that he had been after that chipmonk for the last half hour straight. Walking into the back yard, his ball was right where I left it. Walking further to examine the air conditioner I found nothing. Turning around, there it was, a hole roughly the size of his head about 8 inches deep and another tiny hole inside that one. The chipmonk ran into his hole and Butch was going in after it come hell or high water!
No scolding was necessary, he was just Butch being Butch! A quick run through the sprinkler, some dog shampoo, another run through the sprinkler and he was good as new!