I Should have Known Better

Jack Russell Terriers come straight from the factory with the recall button replaced by the enthusiasm pump. They are enthusiastic about everything from yellow snow to green cow poo. However, they are selectively deaf and only know their names if there is a treat involved. That they grab quick and run away.

But still. I can sometimes get away with letting Mack run loose for a few minutes when the snow is deep and the temperature is low. Those dangly bits are pretty close to the ground and all.

This morning I was trying to write. I get paid to write...at least sometimes....and I was really into it.

The dogs decided they needed to go out.

Again.

So I put the leash on Finn...much more fur and higher off the ground...and let the little one run.

Great plan.

He instantly vanished. But for the highways nearby I would have let him. However, I didn't want to ruin anyone's day by putting him in their path. Otherwise he would eventually get cold and come barking at the door.

Instead I heard him barking down by the heifer barn. Tracks said there was also a cat. We have no cats, but evidently one has us. He was alternately barking at a hole the snow and jumping the fence to run down the hill.

I tried to lure him closer with a cough drop. Alas, although he is a greedy dog,  he is not stupid.

The cough drop was a fail.

The whole deal was a fail. I had on crocs without socks. Adequate to stand in the shoveled path with dogs. Not so much in ankle deep snow. 

The little creep kept coming back to check out the cough drop just in case it had somehow morphed into a sirloin steak, but alas, it was still just cherry and menthol. 

I knew I HAD to get my hands on him before he headed down to the road. He has no car sense atall...well actually no any kind of sense atall but...

There in a tree on the other side of the fence in deep, deep snow was a duck skin. See that weasel I wrote about a couple months ago got in the barn and killed all but a couple of my very favorite poultry...the Call Ducks. Evidently something had made off with a skin and left it dangling.

I climbed up the bank and leaned way, way out over the waist-deep snow and managed after several tries to get my hands on the flimsy scrap of feathers, lamenting the late duck as I did so. I really loved those ducks. Quacky little sillies all noise and flutter....

Then I basically fell off the bank into the barnyard.

I shook the thing at the dog. 

He was on it in a flash and I was on him even quicker. I lugged him back up to the house on frozen feet, while he wagged and smiled and was happy as a pig in mud. 

He is in his crate now contemplating the error of his ways (letting me catch him before he caught the cat and ate the duck skin) while my feet thaw and a second cup of coffee soothes this savage beast. Dogs...ya gotta love 'em. Sometimes more than others.